It's Only Forever, Or The Labors of Sarah Williams
by NiennatheWise
Summary: Sequel to Trapped in a Nightmare. To win Jareth’s heart, she overcame the Labyrinth. Now, to rescue Jareth and win immortality, she must face a new series of tests while Jareth faces his own in exile, little knowing the secret Sarah carries. J/S.
1. Seven Years' Journey

**For those of you just joining me, this is a sequel to **_**Trapped In A Nightmare**_**, so I suggest you read that first. **

**For the rest of you, keep in mind that this is a sequel to a sequel and therefore even further removed from the movie. Most of it, besides the characters in the film, is my own creation. Anything from the movie is the sole property of Jim Henson; I do not own the rights to the Labyrinth or it's original characters (sadly). **

**That being said, read on! I hope you enjoy it. **

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For seven long years, the Labyrinth lay defeated yet without a queen. The victor had returned home, unaware neither of her significance nor the chaos she left in her wake. The defeated Goblin King festered in bitterness, growing resentment in his heart like a weed—his thoughts turned ever toward his beloved conqueror, torn between rancor and desire. _

_Meanwhile, the Underground grew restless. Rumors of the Goblin King's defeat circled far and wide, reaching even the ears of the Court of the Wise—the assembly of retired Kings and Queens who had left their thrones to the care of their children in order to live a more secluded and restful life on the boundary of the Underground kingdoms. Summoning Jareth, they demanded an explanation, to which he merely shrugged and snidely criticized the goblins for their tale-telling ways. Few believed the roguish king's attempts to obfuscate, but without proof, they were forced to watch him exit the assembly room with a jaunty step and mischievous sparkle in his icy blue mismatched eyes. _

_Slowly but surely, the tongues stopped wagging and interest in the Goblin King's business waned. He secluded himself from the rest of the Underground, choosing instead to wallow alternately in self-pity and blame. Yet under the surface, a tempest roiled waiting only to be allowed release in order to deluge the entire Underground in its torrents. It was as if the entire realm waited with bated breath, watching and waiting for the straw to finally break the camel's back and let loose a landslide of buried emotion._

_Then one day, a small tow-headed boy no older than eight mistakenly uttered the words that had changed his own life seven years previous. The unwanted child—painstakingly won back from the clutches of the capricious king—brought his own fate to bear on his once-thoughtless sister. He unwittingly wished upon her the same fate she had knowingly wished upon him: he wished the goblins would take her away. And they did. Gleefully and triumphantly, the defeated Goblin King was reunited with his former victor, but this time, she was his prisoner. Torn between his deep love for her and his bitterness at her flippant rejection of his heart and hand, the Goblin King sought revenge in petty mockery and arrogant scorn. He masked his pain with hate and his longing with cold derision._

_However, her will was as strong as his and her kingdom as great and though he had great power of her destiny in his land, she refused to be treated as one of his minions. The girl who had defeated the king those seven years ago had grown into a mature woman, yet she was still capable of spite. Flinging words like arrows at the arrogant king, she shunned his castle in order to seek help from her old friends. She hoped to relay a message to her brother in the Aboveground; she needed his help to get home. _

_Burdened with sorrow over his careless words, the young boy sought to make amends for what he had done and to win back his sister from the power of a man he only knew as the Goblin King. He remembered nothing of his own time in the Labyrinth years ago and knew only what his sister had briefly told him in the short minutes before his irrevocable utterance of the fateful words: "I wish the goblins would come and take you away right now." _

_But Sarah's friends were not idle; retrieving from her the tome that had once absorbed her thoughts and fantasy, they relayed the book and its import to the child, that he might use it to bring Sarah back home. Thus it was that Toby, the only child to escape the Labyrinth started out on an adventurous journey to return to that fearful place in order to rescue his beloved sister. Though losing his friends along the way, he made new ones who helped him overcome many of the tricks the Goblin King's Labyrinth contained. However, even his new friends could not win him the victory his sister won and he was captured by the goblins before he could reach his goal. _

_In the meanwhile, the once-victorious Sarah herself traveled the labyrinth, but this time the quest revealed more knowledge than thrills. From the industrious and hospitable worms she learned the history of the Underground, but was unable to comprehend wherein the Labyrinth fit. Moving on, she met the neighboring king—a charming, yet dangerous King who had once been close friends with Jareth, the Goblin King. But she did not long remain a guest there, for she was soon kidnapped by Jareth's most virulent enemy: Junia of the broken heart. _

_Twisted by an unquenchable fire of animosity, the woman attacked Sarah with Fury-like rage. Though she was nearly destroyed by it, Jareth would not allow his beloved to be consumed by the deadly flames of Junia's wrath. Awakened now to the harsh reality of his continuing love for his conqueror, Jareth painstakingly nursed her back to health, only to be met with the lash of Sarah's rapier-like tongue. Both bloodied by the darts of their perceived opponent's brutal accusations, they fell into a meditative truce, broken only by the shining innocence of a child's keen perceptions. Toby's capture in the Labyrinth proved providential; the child who had been instrumental in bringing Sarah to Jareth's Labyrinth again proved uniquely suited to break down the barriers keeping the ill-fated couple apart. _

_As each became more aware of each other's feelings, an deeper, richer love blossomed in their hearts. Where it had once been born of fantasy and illusory expectations, Jareth's view of his beloved took root in the reality of her multi-faceted character. She was no longer a child, nor was she a figment of his ardent imagination. She was the flesh-and-blood woman with whom he longed to share his life. Yet, he doubted her newly awakened affection for him. When it became clear that her victory would be brought once again before the Court, he balked. She did not know that her victory had been the same as her betrothal. Jareth knew and feared once again that she would either reject him or be forced to submit to a life of discontent and brooding hatred as his Queen. He tried to send away his beloved in order to face the brunt of their accusations by himself. He sacrificed himself for her._

_But fate would not allow so noble a sacrifice to persist. Sarah and Jareth were brought to the Court to be held accountable for their actions, little knowing that the feared condemnation would turn to joyous reunion. Sarah learned that her defeat of the Labyrinth had earned her the right to be wed to Jareth; her prize of her victory had not merely been the return of her baby brother, for she had also acquired a crown and a husband. Though dazzled, Sarah rehearsed the events of the past seven years, growing ever more aware of Jareth's own love for her and, in turn, her unconscious desire and love for him. The Labyrinth had persistently clung to her memory as she grew beyond the childish fantasies of her teenage years. But it was not only the Labyrinth that haunted her—usually in nightmarish form. For the Labyrinth was but a projection and representation of the King himself. Though she had feared him; she realized he alone of all the men in the world truly captivated her heart, body and soul. She loved him. _

_An exultant reunion of the lovers melted into the sad departure of Sarah's precocious brother. He was sent home with no memory of his adventures, leaving Sarah to explain her mysterious betrothal to a nameless and subsequent departure to a bewildered family. _

_In truth, Jareth had not forgotten his once-adopted child and heir. Unwilling to grieve his beloved Sarah and reject the child who had once so captured his playful spirit, Jareth returned the boy's memory and allowed him a glimpse of the happiness his sister had found in the Underground, as his bride. _

_The joining of Jareth, Goblin King and Lord of the Labyrinth to Sarah Williams, human from the Aboveground and Conqueror of the Labyrinth was an event brilliantly imprinted on the minds of all the Kings and Queens of the Underground, for never had there been such a jubilant, dazzling and resplendent bonding ceremony as was celebrated for the Goblin King and his Queen. For many, it was as if the rapturous couple had transcended their reality into another, brighter and fairer one. They tread the path between the stars while the Underground watched, envious of their wondrous love. _

_From Above, Toby watched the celebrations through the crystal orb Jareth had gifted him. So it was that Toby alone of all the humans of the Aboveground witnessed the joining of his sister, Sarah Williams, to the Goblin King Jareth. It was an event he would never forget though it was never his to remember. _

_Little did he or the Goblin King know that this one small act of pure kindness would devastate the Underground, bringing it to the brink of utter desolation and upheaval so swiftly upon the heels of the joyous events. For, unknown to the boy, it was this one act that fomented rebellion within the Court's own ranks and precipitated the Age of Chaos. Such a trifling thing it was for Jareth to undo the Court's forced amnesia and all for the sake of a boy's love for his sister and hers for him. Impending disaster was further from the boy's thoughts than the thought that he could have once again brought sorrow and pain into his sister's heart. Nor did the boy imagine the suffering encroaching fast upon his sister and her beloved king as he sat transfixed by the spinning colors and faces in the opalescent orb. But one can hardly blame the boy. He was, after all, an innocent bystander to impudent revels of a mischievous king and the dark machinations of a malevolent force long ignored. _

——_Excerpt from "The Travails of the Goblin Queen," Appendixed to the Annals of the Court of the Wise by Asenath, Court Scribe, in the year 7534, Age of Restoration_

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Happy beginning everyone! I hope this is sufficiently 'grabbing' to keep you all interested. Con-crit is welcome and please leave a review, if you have the time and inclination. Let me know what you think so far. **


	2. Red Sky in the Morning

**Finally! I've been working on this for a few days, but my new job as a nanny doesn't afford me much free time to write. This story is going to take a bit longer than the last one, I'm afraid, but bear with me! It'll come, eventually :) **

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Sunlight glimmered through the open window, motes dancing in the resplendent array of gold and yellow beams, but behind Sarah's closed lids, the golden light seemed tinged with red. Snuggling deeper into the satin covers, she sighed sleepily and reached an arm out to search for Jareth. His side of the bed was empty. Hearing a flutter of wings behind her, she turned on her side, slowly opening her eyes and blinking in the light of the fiery dawn.

Silhouetted against the sunlight was the outline of an owl resting thoughtfully on the windowsill. It cocked its head to the right philosophically as she peered at it. A flurry of wings like snowfall brought the owl into the room. It landed on the far side and Jareth slowly unfolded himself in a puff of feathers and glitter.

"Out for your morning flight again, love?" Sarah murmured. "How were the winds today?"

Jareth smirked mischievously, sliding onto the bed beside her "Do I detect a note of jealousy?"

"Always, Jareth. I would give anything to fly with you through the morning light," she closed her eyes, envisioning the feel of the dawn breaking on her skin and the wind buffeting her recklessly. She coveted the freedom and exhilaration Jareth enjoyed in his owl form and she wished she could join him in his pre-morning flights through the sky. Moreover, his absence and the knowledge of what it signified filled her with envy—envy and a slight twinge of anxiety. She felt afraid when she awoke without him, concerned that after all their struggles, she might somehow lose him.

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They had been married four blissful months. Sarah felt as if she was living a dream, her dream. It was ironic that seven years ago she had rejected this dream when Jareth offered it to her, and now she indwelt the very dream she discarded. Every day she grew more and more fond of the whimsical goblins; they were like her children—grotesque, misbehaved and grubby children, but nonetheless she was fond of them. They adored her and when she arrived at the palace as the new official Queen, they had done everything they could to clean the place up. True it hadn't lasted very long, but still, it was an honorable effort on the part of creatures whose only concept of 'clean' is having only ten dirty dishes on the floor and a thin layer of dust rather than a shaggy carpet of the stuff.

Since she arrived, she had tried unsuccessfully to keep the castle in a 'visitable' state—ready in case Jareth's parents or a neighbor dropped in unexpectedly—but the goblins were too used to Jareth's laissez-faire policy regarding the state of his home. Therefore, despite her tendency to prefer order and cleanliness, she lived with the chaotic hodgepodge of broken crockery, food refuse, and good old-fashioned dirt. Every few weeks she would order a few of the less rambunctious goblins to clean the throne room, but it didn't last long. Jareth didn't mind, so she tried not to either.

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Right now, the only thing on her mind was Jareth. The sun glanced off the golden amulet around his neck, and she touched the identical one hanging from her own neck, calling to mind again the unimaginable: she, a human woman, reigned as Queen in the Underground. She doubted she would ever be able to comprehend that fact. _I mean, every girl dreams of being a princess of some kind, marrying a prince and becoming a queen, but none ever imagine it would actually of occur, except perhaps the Queen of England. _

"What are you thinking about, Sarah?" Jareth asked, raising one hand to tuck a stray strand of her dark hair behind one of her ears. Jareth lounged next to her, his wild blond hair splayed haphazardly on the white satin pillowcases. His ageless face free from any sign of the strain that had so marked it when Sarah arrived in the Underground over four months ago.

"I was just thinking about being a Queen. I still can't fully get my mind to believe it most days," she fingered the amulet again, holding it up so that she could see the light set it ablaze—a crescent of liquid gold in her pale hands.

"You have years to get used to the idea," Jareth replied, placing one hand on her waist and pulling her down toward him. "I'm not letting you get away any time soon. So even if you change your mind and want to go back to being merely the girl who stays home with the baby, you won't get further than that bedroom door, even if I have to drag you back by your hair."

"How very barbaric of you Jareth. I'm glad to know that if I change my mind, you'll turn primitive. Should I order Hadrian to send you over a skin loincloth from the trolls just in case?"

"I'll do whatever you want, Sarah. You know that," he grinned impishly and pulled her closer. "And I'll never let anything take you away ever again, not even you. I may be your slave, but I'm still your King." His eyes flickered powerfully and he slanted his mouth over hers, reveling in the taste and feel of her. She responded with equal ardor, teasing him gently with her lips. He kissed her nose, her chin, her forehead, exploring her face with his mouth. When he was finished, Sarah sighed contentedly and moved downward so she could rest her head on his chest—listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

"Jareth?" she whispered.

"Mmm?"

"What is going to happen when I get old?" She leaned back and picked her head up in order to see his face. He was staring at the ceiling thoughtfully, one arm under his head and the other resting on her back.

"With your strong will? I bet you turn into a crotchety old woman chasing the goblins with a cane," he teased, flashing her an impish grin.

"Jareth, I'm serious. Haven't you ever thought about the fact that you are immortal and I'm not? I'm going to age and decay and you'll stay the same. I will get wrinkles and turn grey and eventually I will die here, all while you stay young and fresh-faced and immortal. You're going to outlive me, Jareth. Doesn't that bother you?"

"At least I'll get plenty of years _with_ you, Sarah. It's more than I could even imagine a few months ago. I'm just happy to have the years that we have."

Sarah gave him a withering stare. "I don't want to die, Jareth. Wouldn't you rather spend _eternity_ with me rather than a few measly decades?"

"Sarah, please, that's still a long way off. There's no need to worry about it now," Jareth chuckled at the serious look on her face. He reached out to touch her face but she pulled away, hurt that he didn't take her concerns seriously. Aware that his dismissal upset her, Jareth softened his tone. "I'll see what I can do, dear one. The Underground has never before had a human Queen, so it might take a while to uncover an answer. And of course I would rather spend eternity with you. I promise, beloved, we will find a way to make you immortal like I am. Besides, you know I always get what I want and I want nothing more than to spend forever by your side." He twinkled at her, mischief glittering in his ice-blue eyes.

Mollified, Sarah sank back down to the bed and curled up in Jareth's arms. Her fear subsided, confident in her husband's promise to find a solution. _Jareth does have a way of always getting what he wants, no matter what stands in his way. Just look at what happened with Toby: I thought he would live permanently without any memory of his time in the Underground but Jareth managed to find a way to not only bring back his memory, but also to do it without anyone knowing. _Peace settled over her as she listened to the breath entering and exiting his lungs. She was safe here, always safe in his arms. When Jareth was with her, there was nothing to fear.

Without warning, their bedroom door burst open like a goblin cannon, shattering the bright tranquility. A frog-like goblin with splayed feet and enormous yellow eyes skidded across the floor, babbling at the top of his lungs and not making any sense.

"What is it, Quagmid? What reason in heaven and hell have you to come bursting into my chambers at this hour of the morning? Come on, out with it, or I'll throw you face first into the Bog of Eternal Stench!"

The goblin shuddered—the thought of the infernal, putrid stink clinging to him forever was enough to halt the flood of words issuing from his overlarge mouth. He blinked his bulbous eyes rapidly—looking like nothing more than a humongous bullfrog—and opened his mouth. "Sire, you must go quickly. There are men here, men in gold, lots of men. And they're headed this way! You must go—"

"It's a bit late for that my amphibious friend," a sinister voice oozed from behind the overwrought goblin and a black hooded figure slithered into the room. Behind him, a dozen armed guards bearing the familiar insignia of the Court of the Wise marched impassively. Their faces were grim and this time, the fiery gleam of the sun on their golden shields reminded Sarah more of the fires of hell than the bright rays of the sun. The menacing figure took another step into the room and threw back his hood to reveal a pinched, pale face set with eyes the color of mud. Greasy dark brown hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his wan face sat atop a heavily muscled body out of proportion with his skull-like facial features.

"Danic," Jareth growled.

"I see you've been so kind as to remember my name, Goblin King," the other man sneered, a serpentine smile gracing his thin lips in disdain.

"How could I forget it? You and your worthless father have been a menace to my family for centuries, since before I was even born. I would be a simpleton and a fool not to know who you were," Jareth waved a powerful hand in dismissal. "What I can't understand, however, is why you're here and accompanied by the Court guards. Don't tell me they've changed their minds and decided to trust you."

"They have no choice but to trust me, now," Danic hissed. "My 'worthless father,' as you call him, is in charge now, Jareth. And he has placed you under arrest for contravening the Court's authority and being an all around nuisance." With a flick of his black-gloved finger, guards swarmed into the room. With another careless wave, three more approached where Jareth lay on his bed and dragged him out of it, trailing the white satin covers onto the floor. Jareth fought and kicked to no avail. The fierce guards quickly overpowered him, subduing him in their vice-like grip.

"And don't try using any of your magic, Jareth," Danic warned. "My father placed a protective shield on both the guards and myself. Any magic you use against us will rebound on yourself, hitting you with twice the force that you send out." Seeing Jareth's finger's twitch, Danic grinned maliciously, "Go on, Jareth. Just try me to see if I'm lying. But you best be careful. You wouldn't want that pretty wife of yours to see you crying like a child when your magic backlashes."

With a quick glance at Sarah, Jareth dropped his tensed fingers in defeat. He didn't want anything to happen to her while Danic was in charge—the man could be relentlessly cruel and savage, especially to women.

* * *

During the entire discussion, Sarah had remained motionless, mouth agape at the sparring men and even more shocked to see such a slimy creature accompanied by the guards of the Court. _It must be a mistake. Phainon would never do this to us, not after everything that we've been through. Four months ago he was perfectly willing to accept my place as Queen and forgive Jareth his lack of complete candor. He couldn't have changed his mind that quickly, not with Opalia on our side. This really can't be happening. It just can't_.

Though she wouldn't have admitted it, the black-hooded man made her frightened to the very core of her being. The way his thin lips twisted into a triumphant smile when he explained his father's authority in the court made her blood run cold. A chill overcame her and she shivered. Though she had no idea who his father was, any man to have fathered such a disturbing presence must be utterly repulsive. She wished Jareth would get rid of him with his magic, yet before she was even aware of it the guards had swarmed into the room and dragged Jareth from their bed. For a few seconds, all she could do was stare blankly as the guards grappled with the thrashing king.

Next thing she knew, she had lunged forward, screaming at the top of her lungs, "NOOO! Let him go, stop it! This is a mistake; it has to be. Stop, no! Jareth!" She dove from the bed and attempted to pry one of the men off of her husband.

Danic's features curved into a suggestive sneer. "So, Jareth. You've married a fighter have you? I must say she is a prize. Quite lovely, for a human."

Jareth lunged, trying to intervene between the black-robed figure and his wife. Danic merely snickered as the guards held Jareth firm, digging their gloved hands further into the flesh of his upper arms. "Tut tut, Jareth. Don't make this harder on yourself."

Sarah flung herself at the imposing figure, her fingernails curved like the claws of a cat ready to pounce. Danic raised his right arm and backhanded Sarah across her face, sending her flying into the wall. Her head hit the wall with a sickening thud and she slumped against the floor like a ragdoll.

"SARAH!" Jareth roared, struggling more than ever to escape the iron grip of his captors. He kicked and thrashed vainly, however. The guards would not release him.

Danic strode across the room and bent down over Sarah's prone body. When he straightened, Jareth could see a single drop of something red glistening like a ruby against Danic's black leather glove. It was blood. Danic raised the blood-flecked finger to his lips and placed the red drop on his tongue, savoring the taste of Sarah's blood. He curled his lip fiendishly at Jareth, "A pity, Jareth. She is such a lovely creature. Too bad you'll never see her again."

And with a swirl of his sable cloak, Danic led the way out the chamber doors and through the castle to the great shock and chagrin of the goblins ogling from their unseen nooks and crannies in the throne room. The guards were deathly silent and Danic's thin face was curved into a gruesome scowl. The only sound the goblins heard was Jareth screaming his wife's name over and over again as he was dragged roughly down the corridors. The castle doors boomed shut and an ominous silence descending on the kingless palace.

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What a beginning! Where is Jareth being taken to? What is going to happen to Sarah? And just what relationship does Danic have with Jareth's family? Find out as the story unfolds! As always please review and let me know how you like it. **


	3. Rude Awakening

**Back for more, huh? Oh right, of course you are ;) Here you go.**

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"Sarah? Come on, wake up," Hoggle grumbled, shaking Sarah none too gently. He'd found her roughly ten minutes after Jareth had been taken by the guards and though he had wiped all the blood from her forehead and face, she still looked pale. After an hour of his ministrations, she was still unconscious. "Oh damn you Danic. If you've done anything to her I'll…" But Hoggle didn't know what he would do if Sarah was hurt beyond his aide. This was worse than the time he had left her stranded after handing her a soporific peach. Though he had been a coward last time, he could have helped had he not run away. This time, there was nothing he could do to help despite all his efforts to revive her. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, but Hoggle was beginning to wonder if she would ever wake up.

Sighing heavily, he reminded himself not to give up. Sarah was his friend, the best friend he had ever had, in fact. He couldn't let her down. He fished through one of his pockets for his last resort: a phial of mucky brownish-green liquid stopped up tightly to keep any from escaping. He sucked in his breath and opened the phial, placing it directly under Sarah's nose.

She grunted, head jerking away from the smell issuing from the fetid sludge, and her eyes popped open. "Ugh, what is that smell?" she mumbled, cotton-mouthed from being unconscious for so long.

"A little 'essence of stench' I carry along with me, in case I need to remind myself not to ever double-cross Jareth again," Hoggle replied. He looked relieved, though he was having a hard time suppressing his gag-reflex as the smell continued to permeate the room.

"Well put it away. I'm awake. And if you get any of that on me, I'll kill you," Sarah stated. She tried to sit up, but her spinning, aching head forced her to lie back down with a groan. "What happened Hoggle? Why are you here? Where's Jareth?"

"Jareth…" Hoggle struggled even to say the name of the man he had previously feared more than death itself. "Jareth is gone, Sarah. The guards took him away."

The morning unfolded in Sarah's memory like a rosebud in the sunlight. _Jareth's dawn flight, our conversation about immortality, the goblin rushing in,_ she shuddered. _That horrid man with his greasy hair and sunken eyes. He took Jareth and told him that he couldn't use his magic. I tried to fight him and he hit me. He hit me hard and then, I must have hit the wall. _She reached up to feel the tender egg on the left side of her head and felt something sticky. A brownish red substance coated the tips of her fingers when she pulled them away. _I must have been bleeding. I wonder how much blood I lost. Maybe that's why I was out for so long. I…Jareth's gone. _The truth suddenly crushed her chest like a sack of bricks and she felt her breath exhale sharply. _ He's gone and I don't know where they've taken him. Oh great gods, what am I going to do?_

Trying to sit up again, the room spun faster than the teacup ride at Disneyland and before she knew it, she was twisted to one side—palms pressed hard into the ground to support her weight—and retching onto the stone floor. The realization of what had happened overwhelmed her; a tidal wave of sorrow, fear, and pain rushed in and she started to cry. Hot tears rained down from her between her lashes to splash onto the stone beneath her and her whole body shook.

Standing next to her, Hoggle felt markedly uncomfortable. He'd never been good with women, especially crying women. He shifted his feet restlessly and placed an awkward hand on Sarah's shoulder.

"Erm, don't cry Sarah," Hoggle comforted hesitantly, "we'll find a way to get him back." He patted her shoulder a couple of times then placed both his hands behind his back self-consciously.

"Oh Hoggle! There's nothing I can do! I don't even know why they took him, much less how I can help."

"Come, come, my lady," the valiant voice of Sir Didymus rang out as the ever-stalwart fox entered, followed closely by Ludo, "we must not give up yet! Why doth thy tears fall so heavily? True thy king is captured, but it shall be our most noble quest to aide him and bring him back to thy side posthaste! Come, Sir Hoggle, brother Ludo, art thou with me?"

"Sawah. Sad," Ludo boomed. The gentle beast turned his head sideways, pondering his dear friend with a worried expression.

"Yes, Ludo," Sarah stated. "I'm sad, but—I feel better knowing that you are all here. How did you know where to find me?"

"Now that yer Queen an' all. You aren't hard to find," Hoggle replied, helping Sarah sit up slowly so that the room wouldn't spin so violently. Her stomach heaved once more, but she managed to keep from retching again. "Here, have some of this."

"What is it? More bog juice?" Sarah chuckled dryly.

"Nah, just water." Hoggle held up a leather skin of lukewarm water to her lips and she drank thirstily. "Now drink it slowly or you'll vomit again. That's right, nice and slow."

"Sawah. Hurt?" Ludo asked.

"Well, a little bit," Sarah replied after another drink of water. "I hit my head."

"My lady, didst some knave strike thee? I do espy a blemish marring your lovely face. What scoundrel hath dared smite thee? I shall fight him to the death to protect your honor!" Didymus shouted, enraged that someone would dare to strike both a woman and his own dear lady.

"Didymus is right. That's quite a nasty bruise you have on your cheek, Sarah."

Sarah reached for the hand mirror on the nightstand and held it up. Her friends were right: a bluish-purple blotch was forming on her right cheek. _Danic must have hit me harder than I thought. _"The man who took Jareth away hit me. I think he backhanded me into the wall…that is, if I remember rightly. I'm not sure. My head still feels strange, so I might be misremembering." Sarah wagged her head a bit, clearing away the last remnants of her murky hours of unconsciousness. The movement made her head throb and she winced, but the pain cleared her head. _I can't just sit here and feel sorry for myself. I have to do something._

"Well," she said, turning to Hoggle and Didymus with arms outstretched. "Don't just stand there, help me up. I didn't become Queen just to sit in a funk all day when something goes wrong. Jareth needs me and I'll be damned if I spend more hours crying when I should be getting him back." Her two friends helped her delicately to her feet. She swayed precariously for one moment then righted herself, planting her feet firmly, shoulders heaving.

"I refuse to sit idly while my husband is in peril. I'm going after him and don't any of you dare stop me!" Though still clad only in her nightdress, Sarah's stance manifested more determination and courage than a Viking battle maiden fully garbed for war. Her dark hair hung wildly about her face—a halo of black fire backlit with the late morning sun streaming through the open window.

"My lady," Sir Didymus gasped. Hoggle rubbed his sparsely thatched head, wondering if this was the same woman who had a few moments ago wept helplessly on the floor and Ludo stared dumbstruck at the figure of feminine fury seething in front of him. None of them had ever seen Sarah so controlled and yet so furious; it was frightening.

Her face suddenly softened; gentleness replaced wrath. She was once again the good-humored, strong-willed and friendly Sarah they all knew.

"Now all of you shoo!" Sarah ushered them out the door with a sweep of her hands, her tone lighthearted, but firm. "I have to change!" Her tone changed, again taking on the more serious, avenging timbre of the warrior queen lurking below the surface. "But don't go far. In your words Didymus, we have a quest."

But somehow, the word felt more ominous and dangerous when it issued from her full lips than it did when spoken by the bold and stouthearted fox knight. One thing was manifestly obvious to the three companions: this time, Sarah was definitely _not_ playing a game.

* * *

"It hath been said 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,' but I say it hath no fury like a queen who hath been de-kinged!" Didymus stated with a stamp of his wooden staff on the flagstones. "I hath never seen a lady thus enraged—like a lioness whose cub hath been killed by a huntsman or a knight divested of his honor!"

"Yer right. Even when we were runnin' the Labyrinth, Sarah never got this angry. Don't know why she's so keen on Jareth, but I guess that shows what I know. I never could understand humans," Hoggle shrugged, masking his anxiety with bluster, as was his habit.

"Sarah. Mad." Ludo echoed, summing up everyone's thoughts neatly in the way only a lumbering, warm-hearted and simple-minded beast of a giant could.

The three had retreated a safe distance from the king and queen's chambers, which both protected Sarah's privacy and afforded them enough space to speak their minds without fear of being overheard.

"I understand your concern, brother Ludo, but we must carry on. Our lady is in need of us and we must stand with her on her quest, whatever the dangers may be. We are knights and that means we fight to the death!" Didymus flourished his staff and placed his free hand on his hip in a fierce stance. For such a small creature, he made an imposing figure.

"Well, I ain't no knight," Hoggle retorted. "I told Sarah I was a coward and I still am, so I ain't going."

"You're not a coward, Hoggle and you know it," Sarah's voice floated over his head. Hoggle jumped nearly out of his skin in surprise, but recovered enough to face his longtime friend without fear.

"Yes I _am_ a coward!"

"No you're not. Remember how you stood up to Jareth by helping Toby and I four months ago? And before that, you defied Jareth by attacking the giant robot that used to guard the goblin city. You say you're a coward because you don't want to admit you want to go. You'd rather be bullied into going than admit you want to be with us," Sarah smiled affectionately at the one who had been her first friend in the Labyrinth all those years ago. "It's alright, Hoggle, we all understand."

"Well I still say I ain't going," harrumphed Hoggle, folding his arms across his chest and trying his best to look determined.

"Whatever you say, Hoggle," Sarah said, stooping to gently kiss him on the nose. Hoggle started to protest, but realized that he wouldn't get thrown into the Bog of Eternal Stench for letting Sarah kiss him—Jareth wasn't there to punish him.

"Sarah. Going?" Ludo asked, his head tilted questioningly.

"Yes, Ludo. We're all going, that is, if you'll come with me."

"A quest! Of course we shall accompany thee, my lady! A brave knight never backs down from a challenge! Come Ambrosius." The sheepdog Didymus used as a steed came bounding down the hallway, saddle atop his shaggy mane of white and grey hair. Sir Didymus leapt gracefully and landed perfectly in the saddle. He kicked his heels into Ambrosius and the dog dashed down the hall toward the front door with Didymus' exhilarated cry of "Tally ho, men!" still hanging in the air.

"I guess we better catch up to him or who knows where he'll end up," Sarah chuckled. Taking Ludo's hand, Sarah led the way as she, Hoggle and the orange beast followed close on Sir Didymus' heels. Without Jareth, Ludo was the only thing that made Sarah feel safe. The hairy beast's lumbering gait and powerful arms comforted her. His lopsided grin—interrupted by sharply pointed teeth—gave her the courage and resolve she needed to keep the doubts and fears at bay. Having all her friends nearby both calmed her and impassioned her. She had conquered the Labyrinth with their help and now, with the three of them standing beside her, she would take on the entire Underground if need be. _No one takes my husband and gets away with it. Danic, I don't know who you are or where you came from, but you messed with the _wrong_ Goblin Queen._

* * *

The foursome exited the castle without interference; Sarah briefly stopped by the throne room to bolt the heavy doors and dismiss the gossiping, quavering goblins huddled in helpless masses around the room. She bid them return to their homes and go about their duties while she resolved the obvious 'misunderstanding' that had led to Jareth's untimely departure. With goblins it was always best to make it both simple and overly optimistic; their fuddled brains couldn't handle complicated information very well, especially if it was depressing. No, it was best to let them think Jareth's capture a mistake easily remedied through the efforts of their beloved Queen. Deep down, Sarah hoped that was all it was.

Once outside the Castle walls, Sarah headed straight for the Labyrinth, much to the surprise of her companions.

"Um, Sarah?" Hoggle asked. "Why are we going in there?"

"Because there is someone in there who might be able to help us," Sarah replied. Sarah brought to mind the hunched figure of an old man, leaning heavily in stone chair with a bird-like hat perched atop his otherwise balding pate. _He knew the answer to the Labyrinth and my convoluted relationship with Jareth. If anyone here knows anything about where Jareth is and how to get him back, it's the Wiseman. _She navigated the twists and turns of the Labyrinth effortlessly, barely cognizant of the ever-changing scenery and intricate patterns of movement in the stone corridors.

When she first encountered the Labyrinth, she had bludgeoned her way through it by asserting her will over it. Now, she listened to it, felt it and heard it speaking to her as one would the voice of one's lover or child. As Queen, she understood it as easily as she perceived her own thoughts and Sarah could read the Labyrinth's quicksilver movements almost without thinking. Jareth was the heart and soul of the Labyrinth, so the more intimately connected Sarah became with Jareth, the more capable she was of navigating the Labyrinth. She could feel its breath all around her, taste its magic on her tongue and sense its movements before they happened; it seeped into her skin and burrowed into her marrow. She was a part of it and it was a part of her just as she was a part of Jareth.

They reached the hedges within twenty minutes and another five brought them to the stone chair Sarah and Hoggle had encountered when they escaped from the Cleaners. The chair was carved in the appearance of multiple stacked books and atop it the Wiseman sat sagaciously, as if perched atop the knowledge of the ages. His hands were folded neatly in his lap and his watery grey eyes seemed fixed on some distant theory of calculus or a philosophical paradox in need of resolution. The hat's eyes were closed but they flew open at the sound of Sarah's footfall on the flagstones.

"Whoo whoo whoo! She's back," the bird trilled delightedly. It glanced at its unresponsive host and pecked him a few times on the nose. "Wake up!"

"Mmm? Will you leave me in peace? I have…things…to ponder," the Wiseman murmured—his voice rustling like dry leaves in the wind—entranced once again by whatever enigma hovered in his consciousness.

"How's that for attention span, eh, señorita?" The bird quipped with a long-suffering roll of his beady eyes.

"Come on, Sarah, this guy's not going to help at all," Hoggle griped, irritated at the Wiseman's distracted manner.

"Wait, Hoggle. I know he can help; we just need to ask the right question. Someone very wise told me that once," she winked at him and he grinned importantly.

"Excuse me, Wiseman? May we have a moment of your time?"

"Hmmm? Oh…its you…my Queen. Please forgive…an old man's meditations…I've lived so many years…how…may I be…of service to you, mmm?"

"Jareth needs my help. The guards of the Court took him to stand trial for something. I need to know how what is going on and how to get him back. Most importantly," a slight blush crept onto Sarah's fair cheeks, "I need to know how to get to the Court. I've only been there once and it was by air." She recalled the pegasi and carrus the guards utilized to transport their prisoners. She had no access to flight, so she needed to find a way on foot, and to do that, she needed help. Her first instinct was to come to the Wiseman, though her asking him for directions now seemed silly. He was a philosopher, not a roadmap.

"You're asking this schmuck for directions?" The bird-hat looked incredulous. "Lady, he couldn't get to his seat every morning if I didn't tell him where to go. Isn't that right?"

"Will you be quiet!" The Wiseman commanded.

"Alright, alright, sorry. You'd just think she deserved to know." The Wiseman glared at his hat and the bird mumbled a few more insincere apologies before settling into an impatient silence.

"Now. I can't tell you where to go…but I can tell you…that to gain what you most desire…you will have to give up your greatest treasures," from atop his head, the bird snorted irreverently. "_And_," the Wiseman continued with a withering stare in the direction of his impertinent cap, "to gain life…you must lose it."

"Ah!" Cried Sir Didymus, "Spoken like a true philosopher of the knight-errant's code of honor! My lady, this ancient sage speaks both valiantly and honorably. Let us take his wisdom to heart and fight our enemies to win back thy king and husband! We shall offer our lives in his service."

"Man. Wise," Ludo echoed.

"Indeed friends, he is very wise. That is why we came. Though I don't know what it means for our journey, I know it is important we listen to him," Sarah looked gravely at her companions, then turned to her old friend with a winning smile, "Thank you again for your help. What do I owe you?"

"This time…child…its…on…the…house…zzzzzzz" his head dipped to his chest, muffling the sound of his snoring in his voluminous robes.

"I guess the show's over. Such a stimulating conversationalist I live with, eh?" The bird-hat trilled again, looking fondly at the man beneath him.

Sarah chuckled, then tiptoed over to the chair to place a light kiss on the bird's curved beak. "Even if he won't accept payment, I'm sure you'll be happy with that."

The bird-hat preened smugly and ruffled his few scattered feathers in an attempt to look important, "Whoo WHOO!" He hooted, "I knew I liked you."

"Mmm?" the Wiseman startled awake. "Oh…one more thing…my Queen. Your life…is no longer your own…there is another who needs you."

"Someone besides Jareth?" Sarah queried.

"Someone…besides…Jareth…zzzzz," he fell to snoring again and Sarah realized she would get no more information from him today. His first replies had been typically profound, yet cryptically vague—understood only in the light of whatever circumstance they specifically applied to. But his comment about her life not being her own had been more cryptic still. His tone of voice had shifted dramatically when he said it—his pitch dropping to a deep rumble rather than his usual dry mutter. _Another life? Who could need me more than Jareth? Toby? Has something happened to Toby? Why wouldn't he just say so? Because he's a Wiseman and he enjoys obscurity. Hoggle was right; I'm even more confused than ever. I can't expect my own Delphic oracle to be straightforward can I? Time for plan B. _

Sarah thanked the bird-hat, telling him to convey her gratitude to his master when he awoke. The bird-hat rolled its eyes but agreed to pass on the message. Sarah knew that despite his impudence, the hat really did enjoy his master, so she didn't let his apparently disrespectful attitude bother her. Turning on her heel, she swept past her friends, beckoning them to follow her.

"Sarah, where are we going?" Hoggle asked as they swiftly navigated the remainder of the Labyrinth.

"We're going the only other place where we might find someone to help. We're going to see Kyran and Alegra."

"Friends?" Ludo boomed questioningly.

"Yes, Ludo. They're our friends and quite possibly the only hope we have left of finding out what is happening to Jareth. Hopefully, Kyran knows the way to the Court because if not, we're in for a long, wandering path through the Underground." Sarah grinned encouragingly at her friends, unwilling to let them see how desperate she was. Seeing the Centaur King and Queen was the only other plan she could think of because she didn't know where the Court was located—if that was even where Danic had taken Jareth, but she had to start somewhere. She could only hope to get there in time to save Jareth from whatever fate Danic and his wicked father were planning for him. Her stomach clenched in fear and she felt the stinging bile of her anger rising up in her throat.

_Hold on Jareth. I'm coming for you!_

**

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Thanks for reading. More is on the way. I'm so excited that the ball is rolling. Next up is Jareth while we catch up on how he's doing. If you have the time, please leave a review. I love to read what you all think.**


	4. Trial by Fire

**Thanks everyone who has continued leaving reviews. I'm so delighted that you all are enjoying it so far. There's a lot going on, I know, but bear with me, we'll get Sarah on her journey before long.**

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Sarah's journey across the plains outside the Labyrinth to Kyran's forests seemed to take less time with her friends than it had four months ago. They swiftly approached the bluish-green sea of leaves sitting atop the thick darkness of their black trunks. Here and there yellow fruit winked in the early afternoon sun like schools of tropical fish in the Caribbean-colored foliage. Once they passed into the forest, the light dimmed significantly. The cinnamon scent of the decaying fruit wafted through the air to greet them and they spied several different remains in the purple carpet of leaves.

"Omri?" Sarah called out, uncertain if the phlegmatic centaur was still patrolling this quadrant of Kyran's domain.

The soft thud of hoofbeats on the crisp leaves made Hoggle jump; Sir Didymus brandished his staff defensively, in case the approaching rider should prove a foe rather than friend. Ludo—a bit of a coward considering his enormous size—inched a little closer to Sarah and gave her a worried look. Sarah, for her part, stood stoically firm, refusing to either back down or show fear.

"Would everyone please calm down? Kyran is Jareth's friend and there is no need for alarm. Trust me." She saw the dim outline of a centaurian shadow to her right and she could barely distinguish the silvery-gray of his coat and tail in the dim light of the forest.

"Omri?" Sarah repeated. "It's me, Sarah. I've come to see Kyran and Alegra."

"Your majesty," the centaur stepped closer, bringing himself clearly into their circle of vision. "You are always welcome in these woods."

"Please, just call me Sarah," she smiled warmly at him. "I don't need formality from a friend."

The slightest trace of a smile graced his placid features. Turning to her companions he asked, "Please, Sarah. Introduce me to your companions. I have never met such strange folk here."

"Oh, forgive me. This is my good friend Hoggle—my first friend in the Underground," the dwarf bowed embarrassedly, a slight tinge of red on his clean-shaven cheeks.

"Aw, 'taint nothing. We woundna been friends if you'd not gone a thievin' my jewels. After that, I didn't have much choice. And you bein' such a forgivin' little lady—I never did deserve yer friendship."

"Oh Hoggle, don't talk like that. I couldn't have defeated the Labyrinth without you and you know it. Besides, I like you, always have," she winked at him and he grew red again. Sir Didymus was making slight grunting noises as he stood at the ready in order to gain Sarah's attention. "And this stalwart fellow is the brave and valiant knight Sir Didymus."

Sir Didymus bowed deeply, "Indeed sir, the pleasure is mine. I have never yet met a man of your countenance, but you seem a fierce warrior and perhaps my equal at arms, though I doubt it." Omri bowed in response, giving due honor to the lionhearted fox.

"And this is Ludo," Sarah indicated the orange creature towering above them all.

"A Rock-Caller. I have heard of them, but never yet have I met one," Omri stated, a trace of awe marking his features.

"Rocks. Friends," Ludo replied. "Omri. Friend?"

"I shall be your friend, Ludo, and I shall treasure it—but come, we must hurry to the palace. My Lord and Lady have only just returned from an urgent meeting of the Court of the Wise. If you wish to speak with them, now is an opportune time. Come, friends, let us make haste."

Omri led the way speedily, neither speaking nor flagging his quick trot through the mellow forest. With every step Sarah's anxiety mounted. _Kyran and Alegra have just come back from the Court? Does that mean everything with Jareth is done, his trial over? Or were they just summoned to the initial hearing? Thankfully, this means they will be of invaluable assisstance in my search for Jareth. They will know what has gone on in the Court and they might be able to tell me more about Danic and his father. I just have to pray I'm not too late._

* * *

When they arrived, they were immediately ushered into the throne room, where Kyran and Alegra were holding their daily audiences with their subjects. However, Sarah took precedence over the other centaurs and her entrance cleared the throne room of all but the royal couple seated at the opposite end. Kyran looked his customarily charming self—his short cropped, militaristic hair the only evidence of the danger lurking beneath his outwardly suave demeanor. Alegra looked adorably serene; her child-like innocence evident even in the way her white-blond hair curled back from her delicate features.

"Sarah!" Alegra squealed in delight, her innocent face radiant with genuine pleasure. "Oh, it is so good to see you, please come in and don't stand on ceremony. We're all friends here!" The overjoyed queen descended from the dais and clasped Sarah in a warm embrace. When she pulled back, Alegra noted the serious look on Sarah's face and her blissful smile changed to a concerned frown. "Sarah—"

"Alegra. You know why I'm here. This isn't a social call," Sarah stated flatly.

Alegra's shoulders slumped, "You're right Sarah. I just—I wanted to avoid being overly grim because I am glad to see you, even under the circumstances."

Sarah sighed, "I am, too—I just can't afford to think of anything other than Jareth or I'll go insane. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Sarah," Kyran's smooth voice soothed. He had joined his wife in the center of the room, placing one arm protectively about her shoulders and reaching the other one out to grasp Sarah's shoulder comfortingly. "We understand. What do you want to know?"

"Everything, Kyran. Everything."

The Centaur King sighed heavily, sharing a meaningful look with his wife before gesturing to a side door. "Perhaps we should all retire to somewhere more comfortable." In an undertone, he added, "And more private."

The six of them walked—in Ludo's case, ducked—through a set of wood-paneled double doors on the right-hand side of the throne room. The sitting room was tastefully decorated in Kyran's usual lavish style: wood-paneled walls with intricately carved cornices and crown molding, delicately painted vases and other ornaments bedecking the multiple alcoves, and richly upholstered furniture scattered ornately about the room. It reminded Sarah of nothing more than what would have been labeled a 'parlor' in one of her favorite Regency novels.

Her companions looked sidelong at the lavish furnishings, uncertain what to make of them or if it would be appropriate to sit on them. Ludo took up residence on the floor near a roaring fire, and though Sarah feared his coat would be singed, he remained docilely unconcerned, smiling happily at the group. Sir Didumus sat on a long bench, his staff at the ready by his side. Hoggle looked uneasily from one seat to another and finally decided to stand awkwardly by Sarah's chair. The small dwarf looked out of place, even by the side of his Queen and friend.

Unlike her adventure years ago, Sarah was now dressed appropriately for her travels in the Underground. She was no longer a child of the eighties—with a flowing shirt, embroidered dress and tight jeans—she was an enraged Queen of the underground whose king had been wrongfully stolen from her. Rather than hanging freely, her black hair was piled atop her head, a style both regal and practical and the jeweled circlet Jareth had given her after their joining ceremony was tucked into her hair securely. She wore a high-waisted gown of emerald green muslin—designed for durability and comfort—and the golden amulet representing her office as Queen glimmered against the jade background of her bodice. She had chosen to wear Jareth's black cloak as a token of her quest with matching black leather boots. Had Jareth been there to see her, he would have been in awe at the transformation from an ordinary human woman to a passionate Queen and warrior—for her demeanor lent her attire a starkly forceful and militant aspect rather than the usual serenity associated with Underground Queens.

The ever-perceptive Centaur King and his consort noted Sarah's aggressive posture and the determined set of her mouth and it made them both slightly uncomfortable. _Sarah does not know what she is facing_, Kyran thought._ Will this venture to save Jareth be her doom? She must do more than look the part of a determined warrior; she must be willing to face down the darkest, most sinister mind the Underground has ever produced. _He hoped she was ready.

"Now then," Kyran began, clearing his throat.

"Save it Kyran," Sarah interrupted. "Omri told me you both just came back from the Court. Was it about Jareth?"

"Yes, it was," Kyran replied. Alegra fidgeted uncomfortably next to him. "He was on trial," she added quietly.

"On trial? What for? I thought everything was sorted out four months ago. Phainon let us go after I promised to marry Jareth and help him keep his word."

"Oh, he wasn't on trial for that," Alegra burst out. Kyran gave her a look that bespoke his intention of conveying the news to Sarah instead of her and she silently acquiesced.

"He was on trial for returning Toby's memory, Sarah," Kyran continued. "I thought you would have known that."

"Wait, what?" Sarah's flabbergasted reply echoed in the small chamber. "How did they know about that? I thought no one knew anything."

"You obviously did," the Centaur King chided gently. "Sarah, I know you must have helped him but it is only because they believe he acted alone that they haven't come for you."

"Why do they believe he did it all on his own?"

"Because that's what Jareth told them and he never lies," Kyran's charming face looked grave. "Sarah, you must be careful, if they knew you were involved, you would have been banished as well."

"Banished? You mean—"

"He has already been tried and found guilty of treason against the Court's direct orders regarding your brother's return to the Aboveground," Kyran replied gently, aware of the pain his words caused Sarah but conscious also that they were running out of time. If Sarah didn't leave his home soon, the Court's guards would drag her away as well and he couldn't bear to have her banishment on his conscience. Jareth could survive the banishment, Sarah wouldn't.

* * *

"Bring the prisoner forward!" Barked the white-clad figure seated in what had been Phainon's place of honor before the Assembly. Ammon was a patient man, but at this moment, vengeance was too tantalizingly near and he couldn't wait longer. He wanted to savor his moment of victory—hard-fought and _very_ long-awaited.

He sat leisurely before the tense assembly. His dark hair hung freely, almost defiantly, about his shoulders in thick wave, and he was garbed head to toe in white leather in mockery of the supposed purity and justice that characterized the office of the High Arbiter. Not as hollow and sunken as his son's, Ammon's finely chiseled features were set in grim arrogance and triumphant mockery as the guards of the Court brought forward a sagging figure, heavily chained and already badly bruised from his captors' harsh treatment. His wild blonde hair hung lankly around his pinched face as he glared fiercely at the new High Arbiter and his languid malevolence.

"Ah, Jareth," Ammon said. "So nice of you to join us. Please, take your place before the assembly for sentencing."

"But…I…don't…even…know…what…I've…done." Jareth grunted, straining against both the guards and his chains.

"Don't you? You, record keeper, please read the charges to the prisoner," Ammon lazily flicked his finger at the almond-eyed woman near the foot of his throne.

Asenath stood slowly, trembling with fear and uncertainty. She liked Jareth and his Queen, but she could not disobey a direct order from the High Arbiter, lest she risk bringing down Jareth's punishment on herself as well. Coughing slightly, she read from a sheet of parchment, "The Court of the Wise hereby charges Jareth, Goblin King and Lord of the Labyrinth, with treason and flagrant disobedience for his actions in returning to the human boy, one Toby Williams of the Aboveground, his memory by means of magic. This was done in defiance of the Court's ruling that the boy should be returned to his home with no memory of any time here in the Underground, pursuant to the Underground law that no human in the Aboveground can know of the existence of the Underground."

"There now, Jareth. Any of that sound familiar?" Ammon's silky voice was laden with vicious irony.

"I don't deny that I did what I could to restore Toby's memory. He was only a child and unlikely to be believed even if he did, for some reason, decide to tell someone, which he had promised not to do. Is the Court so callous as to tear away a child's mind?" With a flick of Ammon's fingers, Jareth doubled over in pain as the head of a guard's staff struck him in the stomach.

"Is that any way to speak to your judge, Jareth? You may have gotten away with impudence with Phainon, but you will not find me so quick to dismiss impertinence and defiance in my court," Ammon pronounced darkly. "Now, there is one more thing this Court needs to hear from you. Did you act alone or did your pretty human wife play with you, too?"

Jareth started to protest Sarah being spoken of in such a derogatory way, but the clubbed staff made contact with his stomach again and he doubled over, the breath knocked out of him. He was starting to see tiny flecks of silver on the edges of his vision and his head throbbed dangerously. Though he managed to suck in a rasping breath, another blunt strike to his back threw him on his hands and knees in front of Ammon. The assembly room fell into a hushed silence; the former kings and queens seated around the circular platform were too afraid to move or even to speak.

"Please, let the man speak. No need to be _overly_ violent," Ammon's voice made Jareth's insides boil, but he knew he had to calm his raging hate in order to protect Sarah. He glanced at the tense figures seated around him, noting the absence of his parents among the throng. He didn't know if Ammon was aware of their absence, so he avoided looking overly long at their empty bench.

What concerned him more was the cloud of malevolence hanging like a pall over the room. Many of the Court members evidenced a similar concern to Ammon's over his actions. Though not all were as maliciously delighted at the ruthless treatment he was experiencing, Jareth perceived that many felt he was getting what he deserved. He would find very few friends here with so callous an enemy as Ammon facing him down. Those who might object to the new Arbiter's actions would quickly find themselves facing the Arbiter as Jareth was now.

In fact, Jareth had prepared himself for this moment since Phainon's pronouncement of Toby's return to the Aboveground. Though he had informed Sarah of his plan, he explicitly mentioned details. She knew he had returned Toby's memories somehow, but she had not been involved in Jareth's plans otherwise. He had never admitted to her that he had feared this would happen. The past four months had been torturous, wondering if he was safe or if his doom still awaited him. He knew he had no hopes to free himself; his only thought—as it had always been—was to protect his Queen and kingdom.

"I created and activated the magic on my own, Sarah had no part in it," Jareth wheezed, succumbing to another fit of hacking coughs as he tried to draw breath.

"So it was merely a coincidence that she happened to be visiting her family about the same time Toby recovered his memory?"

"She went to say goodbye. Phainon had allowed that much. She didn't want them prying into her sudden disappearance and accidentally uncovering anything the Court might object to. She was keeping the rules; Toby's recovered memory is entirely my doing. Leave her out of this," Jareth managed to raise himself haltingly on his feet, standing as resolutely as he could given the weight of the chains dragging down on his injured arms and legs.

"Well then, Jareth, if that is your final answer, then you will be facing prosecution alone. Too bad, I would have enjoyed meeting your delectably powerless wife; Danic tells me she is quite a fighter," the Arbiter burst into demonic laughter as Jareth strained against his bonds, unalloyed hatred flushing his face as he let out a feral roar.

Ammon continued to laugh as the guards beat Jareth into submission, placing a gag over his arrogant mouth at one slight gesture of the High Arbiter's fingers.

"I'm not entirely certain I believe you, Goblin King, but as this is a democratic office; I shall put it to a vote. Former kings and queens of the Underground, do you believe Sarah innocent, as Jareth claims or shall we track her down as well to face the same fate as her unfortunately rebellious consort?" Ammon smirked, seemingly confident that the members of the Court would decide the latter.

As previously, the members of the Court began their discussions in small groups, sending delegates to other groups and finally choosing one member to relay their final decision to the Arbiter. The predatory smile that had graced the Arbiter's chiseled face faded into a frown and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the assembly room. "What? None of you are willing to believe that Jareth could be lying? First he lies to the court seven years ago, perpetuating the lie by secluding himself from all contact with any of us. Then, he brings back his _human_ bride, flaunting her and his supposed trips to the Aboveground before us like a prize. And now he contravenes the directions of this Court and you are all willing to believe he didn't get his wife involved?" Ammon had risen from his seat in outrage, glaring nefariously at the men and women seated about him. His fists clenched by his side; his face turning a vengeful shade of crimson.

"How _dare_ you all defy me?! I refuse to sit idly by and allow all of you to take sides with a traitor and menace to the Underground. I'm here because you all wanted me here; most of you agreed that Phainon was too soft to handle Jareth correctly," the fuming man whirled to face Jareth, a vicious sneer marring his otherwise attractive features," But I will not treat you with kid gloves as he did, Goblin King. You may be a child of prophesy, but you are still subject to punishment; you are not above the law, Jareth, no matter how much you arrogantly think you are."

Ammon pulled himself upright, his tall frame towering over Jareth and the rest of the court. "By order of this Court, you—Jareth, Goblin King and Lord of the Labyrinth—are hereby banished from the Underground to face an eternity in Erebus—the Underworld."

The assembly room went deathly silent; outside a bell tolled to announce the pronouncement of judgment and to Jareth's ears, it was a death knell. _The bell tolls for me; it pronounces my doom,_ he thought wryly. Though he would not die, knowing his destination, he would wish he could. He sank back down to his knees as he felt the encroaching pressure of trans-barrier travel squeezing his insides together in a giant vise. Another second later, and Ammon stood laughing maniacally down at the empty platform.

Despite the dramatic prologue, Jareth's disappearance had not even made the slightest pop; he simply vanished, leaving no trace that he had ever been present.

**

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Now don't confuse the Under**_**ground**_** with the Under**_**world**_**. These are very different places, as will soon become clear. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though it was a bit dark. Sarah still has a lot to learn about where to go and what to do, so stay tuned! And please leave a review if you have time. I love 'em!**


	5. A Long Day's Journey Into Night

**I'm back! And you're back! How wonderful and serendipitous! Feast your eyes and souls on my offerings for the day.**

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"I don't understand, Kyran," Sarah was saying, "They never gave orders that Toby's memory _couldn't_ be returned. Jareth wasn't really disobeying a direct order. I _suppose_ he took some liberties but he was doing it for _me_, not his own wicked pleasure. Despite what they might think, he wasn't just defying them for laughs; he did it because I wanted him to. I hated the thought of Toby going home without remembering anything, especially after all his adventures and what he risked to get me back. How could Phainon do this to us?" Sarah was standing now, shouting at her friends defiantly as if _they_ were her enemies rather than the Court. Hot, angry tears trailed their way down her creamy skin to splash unheeded on the wooden floor.

"Sarah," Alegra gentled. "There was nothing we could do. You know we couldn't actually attend the trial because we aren't officially retired from our thrones. We went to the Court—like the other current Kings and Queens—and waited in the antechambers to hear the sentencing. Even then we had to remain more in the shadows than a fairy in goblin territory because Ammon knew we were Jareth's friends."

"Who is Ammon?" Sarah asked, a shiver of fear passing over her at the unknown man's name. _Danic's father, I presume._

"The new High Abiter of the Court," Kyran answered.

"How did this happen? And how could Jareth and I not heard about it?" Sarah was floored that such important news would not have reached her somehow. As Queen, she was expected to know what was going on in the other kingdoms and the Court; her role as ambassador and liason depended on it. Alegra understood her disquiet—as a human, she felt out of place in the Underground in her role as Queen, a feeling accentuated by her lack of information regarding the situation in the Court. Alegra understood that Sarah felt like a failure, especially since her lack of knowledge made Jareth's kidnapping easier for the new regime to perpetrate.

Kyran opened his mouth to answer Sarah, but a delicate cough from Alegra made him think otherwise. "I think I better explain this, Kyran—it's a woman thing." Alegra took Sarah gently by the hands and led her to a settee on the far side of the room. "Sarah. Don't fret about not knowing; we only heard about it because one of our border guards was delivering a message to the Court a few days ago. He happened to be there to witness the aftermath of the coup and brought the news to us directly."

Alegra raised one of her hands to forestall the objection perched on Sarah's half-open lips. "And before you berate me for not telling you, I must tell you that we only found out yesterday evening. We left for the Court immediately and had no time to relay the news. We didn't expect Jareth to be taken so soon." She cast her husband a sorrowful glance.

"So what happened? How did Ammon overthrow Phainon and Opalia? I thought they were well-respected and established in the Court."

"They were, but Phainon's leniency with Jareth upset many members of the Court. They felt he only dismissed Jareth so quickly because of the prophesy regarding Jareth's power and ability to bypass the banishment and enter the Aboveground. They thought he treated Jareth too kindly and resented it."

Sarah shook her head. "What I don't understand is how they found out about Toby. Jareth never told anyone but me that he planned to restore Toby's memory and even then, he never revealed his plans. He was very careful to avoid letting any information slip, almost as if…"

"Almost as if he expected this might happen, Sarah?" Kyran finished. He raised on eyebrow at her; the question hanging in the air like a storm cloud in summer.

"I…but…I don't understand," Sarah replied, gaping unashamedly at the Centaur King and his consort.

"Sarah, Jareth probably expected this. Or, at the very least, prepared for the possibility," Alegra responded.

"He's no fool, Sarah," Kyran added. "I would bet my life he did it to protect you. He is willing to sacrifice anything—even his own life—to protect you and care for you, Sarah. You learned four months ago that he was willing to accept the punitive action of the Court to forestall them forcing you into an undesirable marriage. How much more would he protect you from the possible outcome of his outright defiance of the Court's sanctions?"

"Sarah, what's done is done and you cannot undo it. Most likely, Jareth never expected them to find out, he was only preparing for the _possibility,_ unlikely as it seemed, that someone would discover what he had done, which in fact, they did."

"How?" Sarah whispered, overwhelmed with Jareth's sacrifice on her behalf and too shocked to do more than murmur one-word replies to her friends. Her hands were splayed openly in her lap in an expression of helplessness and confusion.

"On the day they sent Toby home, it appears that Opalia overheard a snippet of a conversation Jareth had with your brother. He mentioned something about taking a sword back with him to practice his sword fighting. At first, the comment seemed innocuous—a false hope perpetrated by an adult to a child who doesn't understand why an event has to happen. But Opalia thought it odd and mentioned it to Phainon off-handedly; he, too, dismissed the remark as nothing more than wishful thinking and false optimism on Jareth's part—why they thought this, I will never understand because such actions are far from characteristic of Jareth. If anything, he would have spoken the truth brutally honestly, if humorously, to the boy. You know Jareth; he doesn't soft-pedal anything." A knowing look came to Sarah's face and her upraised eyebrow communicated unspoken assent to her friend's assessment of Jareth's character.

"So they interpreted the comments in a certain light and filed them away for safekeeping for a few months. Later, out of pure curiosity—and to ascertain if the boy was experiencing any negative effects from his memory wipe—Phainon unexpectedly checked in on Toby using magic to scry into the Aboveground. What he found shocked him. Instead of blissful ignorance, he found Toby not only reading a book entitled "The Labyrinth" but also comparing your adventures to his own. Phainon was furious—like a wild boar intent on a rampage—but he liked Jareth too much to bring charges against him immediately. He wanted to suppress what he'd found and ponder it more thoroughly before confronting Jareth.

However, when other members of the Court found out, specifically those who already opposed Phainon's treatment of Jareth, the rumblings began. Like an earthquake, it began only as a few small tremors, muted whispers about the need for a new High Arbiter, one who would treat the matter more appropriately. Phainon ignored them, thinking it merely echoes in the wind and idle talk suited for old women and goblins rather than former kings and queens of the Underground. He was wrong. The discontented members found a sympathetic ear in Ammon, who had been itching to replace Phainon for centuries. He convinced them he would rule with a firmer hand and bring Jareth to justice, so he and his followers staged a coup. It act itself was over in a matter of minutes and rather anticlimactic. For all the forebodings and storm clouds gathering, Ammon's rebellion was little more than a mist. Phainon stepped down gracefully—cognizant that he could not overcome such a powerful discontent—and immediately went into hiding. No one knows exactly where he and Opalia went, but Ammon searches continually. We think he is afraid Phainon may return to displace him once the aftermath of Jareth's trial blows over."

"That is our secret hope as well, Sarah," Kyran stressed. "It may be that when Phainon and Opalia return, many wrongs will be righted, including Jareth's banishment."

"Right now Kyran, it doesn't matter where Phainon and Opalia are because Jareth has been banished to—wait a minute. To where exactly _has _Jareth been banished? You seem to have neglected that small detail." Seeing her friends' frightened looks, Sarah felt the bile rising in her throat and the black despair of the morning threatened to overwhelm her.

"Um, well—you see. It's…" Alegra trailed off, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"It's complicated," Kyran finished.

"Complicated? What can be so complicated about where a person was banished to?" Sarah could feel her anger rising to overshadow her fear. _Why won't they tell me anything I really need to know? What are they hiding from me?_

"We really can't be sure, Sarah," Alegra hedged. "In fact, I'm not sure I heard the messenger correctly."

"Well, what do you _think_ you heard, then?"

Alegra shot her husband a desperate glance. Kyran coughed and the action had the desired affect: he drew Sarah's attention to himself rather than his distraught wife. "Sarah, you have to trust us that there are some things we cannot tell you. It would be better to ask someone more knowledgeable than ourselves. We aren't trying to lie to you, but we would also rather not frighten you unnecessarily. Besides, Ammon is a deadly foe and you should seriously think long and hard before you defy him openly, especially since you're a human."

"So who exactly _is_ Ammon and what does he have against Jareth? And why should it matter that I'm human?" Sarah demanded, fury rising up within her and the dormant battle maiden raised her head at the scent of something foul on the wind.

"He doesn't like humans. He blames them for our continued banishment in the Underground. Should he ever get ahold of you…" Kyran shuddered. "I would hate to see anything horrible happen to you Sarah, especially after you've braved so many dangers to get here. As for the rest, this is something else that can't tell you that, Sarah. It…it really isn't our place," Kyran hesitated and Alegra continued in the ensuing silence.

"Sarah, Kyran is not exaggerating the lethal opponent you've gained by marrying a man Ammon hates almost more than humans. As Jareth's friends, we're under a lot of scrutiny ourselves and we must do what we can to not get targeted. It isn't that we don't want to help you but, there is someone more knowledgeable and better equipped to answer your questions. We can't tell you everything, but we can tell you who can help you."

"Who?"

"Makarios and Felicia," Alegra replied softly.

"Jareth's parents?" Sarah asked, taken aback by Alegra's response. "How can they help?"

"The history of Ammon and his hatred concerns them greatly, so I recommend you find them and ask them to explain it to you," Kyran responded with some firmness. "Perhaps they can also talk you out of trying to challenge Ammon's actions."

"No one is going to talk me out of rescuing Jareth. Do you hear me? _No one_," Sarah asserted, her face set defiantly. "I got Jareth into this mess and I'm damn well going to get him out of it."

"But—" Alegra began but Sarah cut her off.

"Alegra, I know you and Kyran are trying to protect me, but I'm not going to give up on Jareth. I would be a detestable queen of the Underground if sat passively by while my husband was banished and my kingdom threatened by an unknown and lethal enemy. I may not be immortal or have any magic to call my own, but I have courage, determination, and a strong will. Besides, I'm stubborn. Once I set my mind to something, I do it, no matter who attempts to thwart me."

The king and queen stared at their impassioned friend, torn between fear and awe: fear for her future and safety and in awe of her stolid determination to face down Ammon and rescue Jareth no matter what the cost to herself.

"If you're determined to go," Alegra replied, a subtle question underlying the seemingly straightforward statement.

"I am," Sarah maintained.

"Then we will do what we can to help you get to the Court and find Jareth's parents," Kyran said. He stepped near the door and gave a slight tug on a velvet bellpull. A few seconds later, the door opened and Kyran gave inaudible instructions to the centaur standing behind the door.

"I've sent for Zimri. He will guide you safely through the Underground kingdoms to the Court of the Wise. Hopefully Makarios and Felicia will not be too difficult to find, as they went into hiding around the same time Phainon and Opalia did. However, I don't believe they have gone far. Jareth's father has an uncanny sense of premonition, so I would imagine they are waiting for you somewhere near enough to the Court that you will find them, but secret enough that Ammon will not be able to ferret them out."

"But, why—" Sarah began. A wave of Kyran's strong hand cut her short. His charming face was somber and the serious set of his jaw killed Sarah's question before it was birthed from her unguarded lips.

"Sarah, you must be going as soon as possible. We cannot guarantee your safety for much longer. No doubt Ammon seeks your harm and the sooner you leave, the less likely it is he will be able to track your movements. Ah," said Kyran, noting the arrival of a black-haired centaur at the door to the sitting room. "Zimri is here. You know his brother Omri from your travels here, Sarah. Come in Zimri."

If it is possible for a horse to saunter, Zimri did. Sarah and her companions could not imagine a more polar opposite to the centaur who had led them from the forest edge to Kyran's palace. Though similar in coloring—jet black hair, lightly tanned skin and a dapple-grey coat and tail on his equine quarters—Zimri's personality differed from his brother's like stone differs from sunlight. Omri was stolid, impassive and withdrawn; Zimri, however, lit up the room like a lighting bolt. Boundless energy radiated from his tan skin and shining brown eyes; he looked like a man who would brave any danger and laugh in its face.

Upon seeing the diadem on Sarah's head, he bowed low, his equine forelegs bent beneath him in a deeply respectful gesture. "My Lady," he rumbled in a voice like the rumble of a distant waterfall. "It is a very great honor to meet the Queen of the Goblins and an even greater honor to be chosen as her guide."

"Thank you," Sarah replied, still unaccustomed to being treated as royalty she now was.

Zimri jumped from his kneeling position, a broad grin lighting his face. "Never fear, Queen Sarah, you shall be well protected with me as your guide. I know every path from here to the distant mountains. You and your companions will not go astray."

"Zimri is our most trusted guide and huntsman," Kyran stated while Zimri beamed delightedly at his side. "Not only will he choose the best path, he can provide food and shelter for you along the way, should you need to camp. However, the best option will be to stop at the castles and palaces along the way. The kings and queens should be able to provide adequate enough lodgings for you that you will not have to sleep in the open; hospitality is a rule in the Underground, as you well know."

"I do," Sarah replied. Overcome with their kindness, Sarah's grim aspect softened. Aware that she might not see them again, she flung her arms around Alegra and squeezed her tightly. "Thank you both for everything. I'll bring Jareth back, I promise."

Alegra pulled back slightly to look into Sarah's eyes, for a part of her magic had stirred slightly at Sarah's closeness. "Sarah…" she whispered, placing a hand upon her friends stomach. "Did he know?"

Sarah blushed crimson. She shook her head slowly, tears forming in the corner's of her jade-green eyes. "No. I never got a chance to tell him. I—I was going to wait until I was more certain."

"I see," Alegra smiled sadly, removing her hand from Sarah's abdomen to place it on her cheek. "You must be strong Sarah, for the both of you."

Sarah nodded silently, a single tear tracing a gossamer path down her cheek.

The companions bid their goodbyes to the king and queen, thanking them profusely for their assistance and promising to send Zimri back with details of Sarah's meeting with Jareth's parents and her plans for the next step of the journey. When they had left the room—now under Zimri's supervision and protection—Kyran turned to his wife questioningly.

"What was that all about, Alegra?" He asked and Alegra knew he referred to her brief moment with Sarah.

"Sarah is pregnant, Kyran."

"By the gods! Did Jareth know?"

"No."

"Hell, Alegra! That child may never survive this, let alone meet its father."

"I know, Kyran. That's why I'm so afraid."

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One more chapter down! I hope you like it. Keep those reviews coming and I'll update as soon as I can. The kiddos I nanny for keep me occupied, so I don't get much free time to write. Enjoy this for now!**


	6. Parental Concern

**Just a few important things to mention before you read. First, I have updated both this story and my previous one to reflect the "correct" names for Sarah's parent's and stepmother (Robert, Karen, and Linda). Second, this story is seven years (and four months) after the events in the first movie (dated 1986), which means the events of this story take place in 1993. Just keep that in mind when you read this chapter, it is extremely important!**

**Other than that, just read and enjoy! This is a bit of an amusing subplot :)**

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The Aboveground sun was sinking slowly beneath the red-rimmed horizon, a blaze of fiery glory shooting outward in all directions like a phoenix—doomed to dwell amid the ashes of twilight but also rise again with the dawn. A middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair lounged contemplatively on a porch swing, one foot absentmindedly pushing against the wood planks to provide a gently rocking momentum. The swing needed to be oiled and with every _squeak-squeak_ of the chains as the swing moved forward and backward, a cat in the window of the front room flicked her tail. _Squeak, squeak_; _twitch, twitch_. Forward and backward, back and forth: the movements of cat and swing provided the cadence for the song of the squeaking chains. It was a peaceful scene. However, amidst the tranquility the man's mind darted just as rhythmically to the movement of the porch swing and his thoughts were far from reflecting the serenity and tempo of the porch.

Dusk descended on the blue house with the porch swing, yet the man persisted in solitude and swinging. Somewhere inside the house, someone flipped a switch and the porch was flooded with yellow and blue light. A lightning bug flew towards the blue light coming from a hanging lantern only to fall sizzling through the darkness; it's dying breath too insignificant to arouse the man from his introspective coma. The front door opened and shut quietly and a woman's footsteps could be heard crossing the weather-beaten planks towards the swing—the porch had seen a dozen summers or more and, like the swing, it creaked with wisdom and age.

"Robert?" The woman asked, taking a seat beside him without interrupting the swing's hypnotic cadence in one fluid, expert movement. It was as if she was well-practiced in the art of sitting on the moving swing, which, in fact, she was. Her husband—for so the man was—often sat to ponder on the creaking porch swing and the woman had developed a knack for joining him without interrupting the sway of the swing. She had been doing it an awful lot in the last few months especially. "Robert?" She repeated more earnestly, placing one hand on his limp right arm. "It's getting dark."

"Mmm?" The man replied, finally acknowledging her presence. "Is it? I hadn't noticed."

"You're thinking about her again, aren't you?" the woman—Karen by name—asked.

"Who?" Robert responded absently.

"Sarah. You've been like this ever since she came to visit four months ago. Is there something wrong?"

"Noooo," he replied slowly, drawing out the two-letter word far beyond its natural verbal capacity. "Not that I know of…"

"But you're worried that something is wrong. Ah, ah ah," she held up one hand to forestall his burgeoning protests, "Don't deny it. You believe something is the matter with Sarah."

"I can't help but think that her wedding was so…"

"Sudden?" Karen finished, a knowing look of womanhood in her gentle eyes. _I've always thought he must have either been extremely handsome or ridiculously smart to grab her attention so quickly. Sarah said he was rich, but she's not mercenary. So he must have also been handsome and intelligent enough for her to marry him on a whim like that. Sarah can be impetuous and adventurous sometimes, just like her mother. She may have simply gotten caught up in her romantic feelings that she sailed off to marry this man. Either that or she was forced to…_ That thought was the elephant in the room for both of them and had been for the past four months of Sarah's absence. Neither one had been willing to give voice to their fears, and their bubble of silence was close to bursting.

"Sudden isn't precisely what I had in mind—secretive is more like it," Robert slammed his fist in his open palm; his simmering emotions finally breaking free of his placid façade. "Damn it, Karen. We weren't even allowed to go to the wedding! I'm her _father _and I couldn't even be there to see my baby girl get married! I can't _help_ but think that something is wrong."

"But Sarah said it was a cultural thing, remember?" Karen replied, playing devil's advocated in order to draw her husband out of the brooding silence hanging over him.

"What culture or society have you ever heard of doesn't allow the bride's family to come to the wedding? Or even to talk about it, for that matter! Because Sarah didn't just forbid us from coming, she said she couldn't even talk to us about her husband, his family, or where they were from. She couldn't even tell us what country they were from! If that isn't suspicious, I don't know what is."

"Then why did you let her go, Robert? If you were really so suspicious at the time, why didn't you force her to stay until you found out more?"

"Because…" Robert's shoulder's slumped as he heaved a heavy sigh, the porch swing shuddering in time with the heave of his body. "Because although she's my little girl, Karen, she's also a fully grown woman now. I can't keep treating her like a child. I have to be willing to trust her, even if I don't like it."

"So why worry now?" Karen replied, again trying to draw out what was really bothering her husband.

"Because I can't help myself! Every day we hear more and more stories in the news about the global conflicts everywhere. There's the tension in Europe because of the dissolution of the Soviet Union two years ago and Yeltsin's having trouble with the parliament. Not to mention the Middle East with the fallout from the Persian Gulf War and Saddam Hussein. There was the disarmament crisis in Iraq and who knows what else going on over there! I can't help but wonder if Sarah…"

"If she what, Robert? What is it that's really bothering you?"

"I…" Robert choked on the words in his throat, unable to give voice to his deepest fears for his only daughter. When he finally spoke, his words were a hoarse whisper. "I can't help but think she may have gotten mixed up with a Middle Easterner or a Soviet. There's no other reason she would be so secretive about who she was marrying or where they were from. All this time we've been assuming that she entered her marriage freely, but what if we were wrong? What if she was forced to marry someone dangerous against her will?" Robert took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. "There, I've said it. It's what we've both been afraid of all along, right?"

Karen nodded silently. She couldn't deny that Robert had hit the nail on the head. "So what do we do, Robert? What _can_ we do? Sarah is long gone and we have no idea where she is or who she's gotten mixed up with." Karen took a deep breath and vented her deepest fears, "What if she was kidnapped by the Russian Mob or the former soviets? What if she got mixed up with one of those Middle Eastern polygamists or something? Or what if she married a spy and she's in the center of a dangerous crime ring? Or what if she was forced to marry a mobster or something else just as horrible—" Her questions were approaching hysteria when she was interrupted by a small voice coming from inside the house.

"Mom? Dad?" Toby pushed open the screen door to join his parents on the porch. He had overheard much of their anxious conversation from his perch on the living room couch on the other side of the front window—where he had been reading his history book for school. He had tried to ignore their conversation, knowing that his involvement would only complicate the issue because he knew where Sarah was: in the Underground. So he had forced himself to block out their increasingly frantic voices, but when they had started talking about Sarah being mixed up with the Middle East and other such nonsense, he knew he had to say something to allay their fears. Even if he couldn't tell them the truth, he had to keep them from worrying so needlessly about Sarah. He knew she was fine and he needed to find some way to communicate that to his parents without giving away Sarah's actual location. They wouldn't believe him anyway.

They turned to look at him, his mother's face was stricken with worry and his dad's furrowed brow seemed more deeply lined than ever. Toby feigned ignorance, "What are you guys talking about? Is Sarah ok?"

"Don't worry about it Toby, we're just having grown up talk, ok?" Robert replied with more calm and control than he felt. "Why don't you go upstairs and finish your homework?"

"But if Sarah's in trouble, shouldn't I know about it? She is my sister," Toby held his ground, He refused to be turned away so easily, displaying the same stubborn streak Sarah had frequently manifested, which they had both inherited from their father.

"We don't know for certain, sweetie," Karen soothed. "We're just concerned because we haven't heard from her in a long while and she went away so suddenly."

"I don't see what's so weird about going away. Isn't that what grownups do when they get married? When Angela from next door got married she and her husband moved to Washington and we haven't seen her for a year. Why is it so weird that you haven't heard from Sarah?"

"Well…you see, we don't know where Sarah moved to, so we can't be sure if she's fine," Robert replied thoughtfully, stumped by his son's eight-year-old wisdom.

"But wouldn't she tell you if she was hurt?"

"Not necessarily, Toby," Karen answered. "If she is trapped somewhere or her new family won't let her, she couldn't get any information to us about how she is."

"I'm sure she's fine, mom," Toby retorted, disgusted by his parent's inability to hope for the best.

"I'm glad you think so, Toby, and your Dad and I hope that you're right. We're just worried about Sarah, that's all."

"I don't just _think_ so," Toby snapped back. He was angry at being treated like a child, even if he was one. _Why can't they listen to me?_ He wondered. _Adults can be so stupid sometimes._ "I _know_ she's fine."

"What do you mean, Toby?" Robert asked; his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

_Oh man. That was a bad idea,_ Toby thought. _I shouldn't have said that. What am I supposed to say now?_ "Um. I just mean that I can feel it, you know. If anything was wrong with her, I'd sense it; we're….we're really close like that." He finished lamely.

"You and Sarah have always shared a deep bond," Karen smiled maternally. "Haven't they Robert? Ever since he were a year old Sarah has been so attentive to Toby. For a while, the two of them were practically inseparable! But Toby, you have to understand that even people who are really close can't always know how the other person is doing. Your father and I have been married for ten years now and we still don't always know how the other is faring in the world. Your feelings are just that, your feelings. I don't say this to be mean, but I also don't want you to rely overmuch on what you feel about Sarah."

"I still think you guys are freaking out over nothing," Toby pouted.

"That's enough, little man," Robert warned. "Go up to your room, and finish your homework. Now."

Toby jumped at his father's intense demeanor and hastened to obey his commands. Though he hated to leave them while they were still convinced Sarah was in trouble, Toby obediently packed up his history homework and went up to his room. Once there, he pulled out the crystal Jareth had given him four months ago in order to keep in contact with Sarah and the Goblin King.

A filmy white substance swirled lazily in the depths of the crystal when Toby held it up to his face. Ever so slowly, an image materialized out of the haze like the sun dissipating a morning mist. Toby's heart plummeted and he felt sick. A miniature Sarah lay slumped haphazardly against the stone wall of her bedchamber like a broken toy. A trickle of blood meandered down her check to splatter in the small pool of red liquid forming below her hunched form. Jareth was nowhere to be seen, but Toby could dimly make out the echo of Jareth's voice shouting Sarah's name over and over again.

Toby cried out Sarah's name in a desperate echo of Jareth's own pleas for his wife. Tears formed in his eyes and splashed down his childish face. He had been wrong. Sarah was not all right and this time, he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to help her. His boyish heart ached for his sister and helplessness stirred up anger. He hated that his parents had been right about Sarah being in danger, even if they had pinpointed the wrong source. He hated that he hadn't known about it until now, but most of all, he hated the fact that he could do nothing whatsoever to aid her. All he could do was sit and watch the blood pool slowly grow larger and hope that someone would come find Sarah before it was too late.

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Downstairs, his parents continued their impassioned discussion of Sarah's wellbeing, unaware that their son knew the answer to their questions and that he wept because of it.

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As always, dear readers, reviews are much appreciated! Let me know if you think this is a good subplot to keep up with (even if you want more Sarah and Jareth. Don't worry I won't neglect our fabulous King and Queen!). Thank you for being willing to put up with a bigger gap in publishing, I have so much to do !**


	7. Hell

**Many of you have asked for an update on Jareth, so here it is. Thank you to those of you who left feedback on my last chapter. I've decided to incorporate the storyline a bit differently than I planned, but I will be keeping up with Toby and family. I hope you enjoy this next bit!**

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Jareth awoke to the sound of muted whispering, like dry leaves rattling in the wind. His head was clouded and the mutterings only served to confuse him more.

_Where am I? What is this? Is someone talking? I…can't remember where I am. What is going on? Sarah? Is that Sarah I hear? Or is it only my imagination…I can't seem to open my eyes. So heavy…_

He felt something icy brush against his arm. He couldn't tell what it was, but it felt like death—frozen, paper thin—and a chill of despair swept through him, emanating from the point of contact. Another brushed against his shoulder, then his leg, his foot, his chest and finally his face. The delicate touches of death and despair were prodding him everywhere and the sorrow they emitted was starting to overtake him. He felt his desire to awaken beginning to fade; one by one his memories of life elsewhere were borne aloft into a vast nothingness. Nothing mattered anymore except the desire to sleep, to drift on the waves of sorrow until he reached the edge of the ocean and when he arrived…to fall into oblivion.

From somewhere in his consciousness, a face floated to the surface, the winds of despair threatening to whisk it away: silky ebony hair framing a delicate face with jade green eyes. The face was familiar but he couldn't recall whose it was. He tried to focus on it; behind his closed eyelids the woman's face shone like a beacon of hope. _Who are you? Why do I feel so strongly about you? Why is it that when I look at you, I want to live? Who…are…you?_ The lips of the phantom were moving and he strained mentally to hear what was being said.

"_Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I've fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to win back the child you have stolen. For my will is as strong as yours and my k—"_

_Sarah! _He called out to her mentally as he finally placed name to the face that was haunting him. Memories overwhelmed him from the tides of the despair flooding him. _Sarah, my beloved Sarah. How could I forget you? You tried to save me when Danic took me from our bedroom. He hit you; there was blood on your face and the wall where his fist sent you flying. Your beautiful hair was strewn across your body like foam on the sea. Oh, my Sarah, are you alive? Are you hurt? Are you coming to find me?_

From within his depressed consciousness, Jareth accessed a hidden pool of strength—Sarah's face emblazoned on his closed eyelids and his own ignorance of her wellbeing empowered him to open his eyes. He saw dozens of faces staring down at him. But there was something wrong with their appearance; he couldn't tell if his vision was impaired, but the faces swimming above his own seemed pale and limpid, almost translucent. Their gazes were fixed in various stages of sadness—ranging from quiescent acceptance to aggressive melancholia. He raised his head to see their diaphanous fingers clawing at him; even more faces shimmered near his torso and legs and all were clutching him as if he were a lifeline. The pale faces frightened him and he yelled out, twisting madly in an attempt to shake off the ruthless shades. No matter how he writhed, they would not release him. Thin as gossamer, hard as steel, their icy fingers clung to him relentlessly, unwilling to give up their prey.

He tried to summon his magic, to create a crystal sphere of energy to blast them away but nothing happened. His fingers remained empty and the cold hands pressed against him with renewed vigor. It was as if a dark hole existed in the place where his magic used to be. The thought of being without magic frightened him and the shades pressed closer as they sensed their victim's vulnerability.

Jareth heard a comforting sound coming from his left—the slow, steady crunch of sandaled feet on gravel. The shades twisted to inspect the newcomer. The foremost of them hissed defiantly and Jareth thought he could perceive a touch of fear mar the faces of his oppressors. The footsteps halted a few inches away. The shades hesitated, apparently at a standstill with whoever approached them. A shrill whistle cut the air like a hot knife through butter and the shades scattered in all directions. Jareth could hear their shrieks of anger and defeat long after the wraithlike figure disappeared beyond the horizon.

Rid of their prying fingers, Jareth could feel warmth and hope creeping back into his soul. He heaved a huge sigh and breathed freely, grateful to the stranger for ridding him of the parasitic creatures. A pale hand reached down to help him stand, but he could not see the face of his rescuer for it was silhouetted against the white dome of the sky above him. He felt another hand beneath his armpit and the unknown Samaritan hoisted him to his feet.

"You're lucky I came by when I did," a melodic voice rang in Jareth's ear. "Those spirits would have drained your soul. They may be dead, but they're not powerless and they're always hungry for life. Damned leaches. There now, can you stand?"

Jareth stood precariously on his own feet, wobbled slightly, and planted his feet firmly on the broken shale littering the ground at his feet. The stranger held his arms for a few more minutes before letting go and stepping back, allowing Jareth to survey his rescuer for the first time.

Before him, stood a young man—curling golden hair sprang from head, atop which sat a frayed peaked cap holding two ratted feathers, one on each side. His clothing was shabby and stained with dirt, held together only by the leather belt at his waist, yet even this did not dim the roguish glint in his velvet eyes. His ageless face was pale, careworn and a bit sallow but the light of youthful vigor still glowed, albeit dimly. His feet were shod in well-worn leather sandals each of which sported a pair of tattered, drooping wings. A similarly winged scepter of tarnished bronze weighed down his sagging belt, threatening to undo the garment altogether. The man was a monument to faded glory and long-dead power clinging to the fringes of hope born of everlasting life. The sight troubled Jareth and he shuddered involuntarily.

"Who are you?" Jareth whispered. His rude awakening, coupled with the strange visage of the man before him, filled him with dread. "Where am I?"

"I am Hermes." The young man bowed, taking of his cap with a proud flourish of the drooping feathers. "And as for where you are, I think you already know but are too frightened to say it. Were the shades not enough to convince you? At the very least _I_ should be clue enough for you.

"You, Jareth, former Goblin King, are in hell," the man grinned devilishly and laughed as a look of absolute horror crept onto Jareth's handsome features.

"Don't worry about it too much, though," Hermes continued with a jaunty laugh, reveling in Jareth's discomfiture. "You're immortal so you can't really die here. You just 'exist' here, like being in limbo. It's not that bad really, once you get used to it."

"That makes me feel _much_ better," Jareth retorted sarcastically. Mockery replaced horror and he felt resentment seeping into his mind. Despite his own propensity toward trickery, he hated being wounded with his own weaponry. _I can't let this brat best me in a verbal battle. There's only room for one master of mischief around here. When I'm gone, he can have the title back but so long as I'm here, I will _not_ lose at my own best game! _"What did you say your name was, _boy_?" Jareth sneered. "I don't think I've heard of you before."

Hermes laughed, "Don't try to pull that on me, Jareth. You know who I am, or at the very least, you know _what_ I am and that should warn you not to play coy with me. I am—or was—one of the Olympians who sent your incompetent family to the Underground. Though I admit, things didn't turn out exactly as we planned," he looked about ruefully at his dismal surroundings and his own tattered clothing, "But we had a roaring good time while it lasted. Which is better than you can say, I'm sure."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Jareth growled. He hated the impudent youth more and more.

"Either way, we both ended up in the same place: hell. Though I suppose it should more properly be called 'the Underworld' or Erebus if you prefer the formal name, but I much prefer hell. It has a certain ring to it, don't you think? Especially when you're job is to welcome the newcomers," Hermes grinned playfully again, pleased with his own twisted humor.

"It certainly does," Jareth replied under his breath. He avoided direct eye contact with Hermes except to glare at him distrustfully.

"Oh don't be so 'holier-than-thou,' Jareth. We're more alike than you think, you know."

"How so?" Jareth retorted, sending another icy glare in Hermes' general direction.

"Well, to start with, we're both virtuosos in mischief and mayhem. I know all about your little Labyrinth and the tricks you've pulled in your world up there. Don't look so surprised, the other thing we have in common is the ability to cross seemingly impassible barriers. I was formerly the patron god of travelers and those who transgressed boundaries. For a time, I was the messenger of the gods and could cross freely between the heavens, the earth, the Underground and the Underworld. I guided humans to and from the Underworld and was one of the only gods who could do so," he puffed out his chest and the dilapidated feathers on his cap stiffened proudly for one moment before drooping dejectedly against his hair. "Sadly, the passing of time has stripped me of much of my abilities and I am only capable of _seeing_ past the boundaries rather than crossing them. Your ability, however, is much more interesting and I wonder if—"

"So you watched us?" Jareth asked, interrupting Hermes mid-sentence. "Why? What possible advantage did it have to watch my 'incompetent family' rebuild their lives in peace?"

"Idle curiosity really. Hell is disgustingly dull, if you can't tell. I was bored. Besides, the rest of the family wanted to know how you all fared; they had their own reasons of course. Aphrodite wanted to know what you looked like and if there were any titanesses half as beautiful as she was. Zeus wanted to relive his glory days and Hera—homemaker and consummate mother that she is—wanted to know about how the family was doing. She always regretted the decision to send you _all_ away and wished we had spared some of the more, shall we say, pliable members of the family—she can be nostalgic like that. If you ask me, she was just pining for the days when Zeus only had eyes for her, if you know what I mean." Hermes gave Jareth a knowing wink but the king's only response was a blank, confused stare.

None of what Hermes was saying made any kind of sense to Jareth. _Who are these people? Can he seriously be talking about the other Olympians? He said he was one of them and from what he said, it sounds like there are others with him. Are they _all _down here? Is that what happened to them a couple millennia ago? We thought they all just vanished but could it be they descended to the Underworld? How strange, and fitting._ He thought viciously; hatred for the Olympians was inbred and now that he stood facing one of them, he couldn't help but hate them all the more. _If this is an example of what they're all like, I'm glad they're in hell. _

Hermes was still talking and Jareth realized he had missed the last few sentences of what he said. Unable to retain the information Hermes spouted at him, Jareth held up his hand to forestall any further discussion. "Please, Hermes," Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. "I can only take so much at the moment and what you're saying makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. I honestly don't care what your family thinks of my family or what you bored immortals do with your free time down here. What I need to know is how to leave."

"Oh, you can't simply waltz out of hell," Hermes replied flippantly. "You have to have someone to guide you."

"You can, can't you? Didn't you say you used to be the guide for the dead?" Jareth replied sarcastically, a sneer gracing his elegant features.

"I _used_ to, emphasis on the past, Jareth. I can't cross over any more; didn't I say that? Oh well, you probably weren't listening, so I'll tell you again. I _was_ the guide for the dead a very long time ago, but I don't wield that kind of power anymore. I can only see between worlds and even then, it is only in snippets, especially nowadays." Hermes sighed dejectedly. "Now I understand how it feels to get old."

At that moment, Jareth felt sorry for the youth—to retain eternal life and youth but watch one's faculties and powers slowly diminish would be depressing at best and maddening at worst. _Still, the Olympians got what they deserved for all the havoc they wreaked in the Aboveground. I can't deny that the world is better of with them all here and stripped of their powers._ However, he continued to feel a pang of pity for the impotent immortals, after all, he had joined them.

"So you're saying I can't do anything to get out? How is it possible that I can break the barrier between the Aboveground and the Underground but I can't cross the boundary between the Underground and the Underworld?"

"I don't know, Jareth. All I know is that once you're here, you start to lose your powers. It may partly be due to the fact that Hades' power is still intact. As lord of the Underworld, he's just as strong as he was ten thousand years ago. He is the one who maintains the barrier separating the Underworld from the rest of the world; since he's still alive and kicking—and empowered—his magic remains intact. For everyone else, however, the Underworld sucks the life out of you, sometimes literally. The shades who welcomed you rather gruesomely to our humble abode were once the souls of men and women in the Aboveground."

Jareth shuddered at the all-too-recent memory of the icy fingers clutching at him as if tearing his life away. "So, they're dead?"

Hermes nodded and continued, "I called them leaches for a reason. As former souls, what they desire more than anything is to regain the life they lost. We are immortal, so we retain the spark of life when we arrive here. The souls were trying to drain the life out of you in a misguided attempt to restore their former lives. If I hadn't come along to save you, they would have succeeded."

"But I'm immortal, how can they do that?" Jareth asked incredulously.

Hermes shrugged. "Somehow, it's possible. It may be Hades' sick idea of a joke, but that's life in limbo."

A prolonged silence ensued in which neither man made eye contact with the other. Hermes picked at a hole in his robe self-consciously and Jareth stared at the unchanging white dome above him, lost in thought. "If you hate my family so much, why did you rescue me?" Jareth eyed Hermes suspiciously, uncertain whether or not to trust one who had been involved in the exile that left his family stranded in a world inhabited only by outcasts. "You could have left me for the shades to devour."

"First of all, I don't hate your family, Jareth," Hermes replied, another boyish grin lighting up his features. "I'm not the kind to hold a grudge after a thousand years or more. Some people might—like Hera or Aphrodite—but not me. I'm just the messenger, remember?" Jareth's eyes narrowed even further, a slight gesture Hermes did not miss. The young man erased the flippant smile from his face and set his features more sternly to punctuate the importance of his message, "I rescued you, Jareth, because you are too important for me to allow you to die. If I didn't save you, all our worlds would be doomed."

**

* * *

As you can tell, I love Greek mythology. I wove it into my last story and since it makes up so much of the history of the Underground, there will be a lot more in the coming chapters. Let me know what you think of it! Have a lovely last few hours of your weekend!**


	8. Stranger in the Night

**I'm back! Sorry I've been so sporadic of late. I've been working on PhD applications, which have commandeered most of my free time. But my hard work paid off because the're done, so now I'm back to spending my free time writing this story for your reading pleasure. It's about time to check back in with Sarah!**

_

* * *

Determined to deliver her consort, Sarah, Goblin Queen, left the palace of Kyran, Centaur King, accompanied by her stalwart companions—Hoggle the dwarf, Ludo the Rockcaller and Sir Didymus the Fox-knight. In a gesture of goodwill, the Centaur King sent along with her a guide from his own court: a centaur by the name of Zimri. A brother to the centaur who first welcomed the Queen to Kyran's Court, Zimri was both knowledgeable and reliable in many matters pertinent to the Queen's sojourn. He was an excellent guide and the Queen and her companions traveled fleetly across the kingdoms of the Underground, stopping only for meals. _

_Following Kyran's suggestion, the Queen and her companions sought refuge and hospitality in the palaces of the Kings and Queens of the Underground. After a long first day's journey, Zimri led the party to the court of the Queen of the Minotaurs. The guard at the door coldly turned them away, bidding them seek shelter elsewhere as the Queen was indisposed. Undeterred, Zimri and the others pushed onward another few hours past dusk to reach the kingdom bordering the Minotaurs—that of the Fauns. The Fauns had always been friendly with the Centaurs, but at their hour of need, the companions were shunned again—leaving them no choice but to take shelter in the forests fringing the Faun kingdom. _

_The next day brought them one step closer to their destination, but no closer to finding hospitality among the various kingdoms whose counties they crossed in their quest to reach the Court of the Wise before the week was out. No matter the race, the Queen and her faithful friends met with persistent rejection from those who should have provided shelter and sustenance. After two more days, food and other provisions ran low and without assistance from the Kings and Queens, Zimri's only choice was to set aside part of one afternoon to forage for wild fruits and any other edible plants as could be found. They settled for the night in a dank cave in the foothills separating the plains from the Mountains of Aravon. Their arrival at the foothills heralded the end of their journey and Zimri promised the Queen that the morrow would bring them to the Court before sunset. The Queen and her companions too heart, hopeful that a new day would bring pleasanter news and more amiable discourse with the denizens of the Underground kingdoms._

_However, before reaching the end of her quest, the Queen spent one last night on the Plains of Mereth, which are the lands containing all the myriad Underground Kingdoms. It was this night—the night that brought her within a hairsbreadth of her goal—that the Queen met someone unexpected. For as has been frequently documented in the chronicles of Sarah Williams, Goblin Queen (who was formerly Sarah Williams of the Aboveground), she made a friend in the most unlikely of places and received a cryptic message from the lips of one who was not as she seemed. _

——_Excerpt from "The Travails of the Goblin Queen," Appendixed to the Annals of the Court of the Wise by Asenath, Court Scribe, in the year 7534, Age of Restoration_

* * *

Sarah ached all over. Her blistered feet throbbed demandingly even as she dipped them into the flowing stream to soothe them. She looked ruefully at her sweat and dirt stained stockings where they lay on a flat stone to dry in the sun. _Remind me not to ever wear white stockings when I'm traveling by foot. I don't think they'll ever get clean again. At least Alegra was kind enough to pack me an extra pair along with more sensible walking shoes._

She smiled at the memory of the kindly face of her friend hastily packing items into Sarah's already overfull pack—_"You'll thank me for packing you these boots Sarah. The thin soled shoes you have now might be fine for a short journey between kingdoms, but you'll need sturdy boots to go tramping about the rest of the Underground and who knows where else." Sarah had merely smiled and replied that she didn't expect to be going further than the Court, if all went well. Alegra had pointedly ignored her and continued packing other so-called necessities into Sarah's bag._

Sarah sighed. _I'm glad she didn't listen to me. These shoes are a godsend. My green shoes wore out yesterday and we still haven't begun the ascent into the hills. These boots are just what I needed._ She stretched out lazily in the late afternoon sun, savoring its kiss on her pale skin and its warmth seeping into her wearied bones. For a moment, she felt peaceful, serene; she yearned to take hold of the hope Zimri offered her at his announcement of their arrival at their destination before sunset tomorrow. Yet hope eluded her; the sun suddenly lost its warmth and a chill swept over her.

"Sarah?" A cautious voice came from the bushes behind her, startling her out of her reverie. "Are ya decent?"

"Don't worry, Hoggle, I'm fully dressed. You can come out if you want," she replied as the clean-shaven face of the dwarf peeked through the foliage to her left.

"I didn' wanna interrupt you, ya know, if you were gettin clean," he blushed.

"Thank you, Hoggle, you're so sweet," she leaned over and placed a kiss on his bulbous nose, making him blush a deeper shade of scarlet. Hoggle mumbled a response, but Sarah couldn't quite catch what his said other than "Jareth" and "Bog of Eternal Stench." She supposed he was protesting his gratitude for the fact that Jareth wasn't around to pitch him into the loathsomely foul smelling muck they almost landed in seven years ago for a similar action on Sarah's part.

"So what do you need, Hoggle? I was just soaking my feet; my blisters are killing me." Sarah grimaced as she swirled the chill water with her aching feet. "You don't happen to know of any natural remedy for blisters around here, do you? I could sure go for some of your hands-on experience and knowledge right about now." She gave him a wink, recalling the time in their relationship when he had berated her for being ignorant and inexperienced in the ways of the Underground.

Hoggle immediately perked up. "I think I know something that might help. Let's see here," he started poking around the shrubs and trees lining the little brook, pushing aside leaves on the ground and overturning rocks. "Aha! Here ya are!" He raised his little fist in the air, triumphantly holding aloft a thick, yellow, tubular item that reminded Sarah somewhat of fresh ginger root. Hoggle marched proudly back to where Sarah sat and offered her his discovery. On closer inspection Sarah could see that it did indeed look much like a root of some kind: it was about six inches long with several small protuberances interspersed along its length. However, instead of being hard and fibrous like ginger, it was spongy and felt repulsively similar to a slug.

"That's a Goram root," Hoggle explained as Sarah held the strange item up for closer examination. "Extremely useful for when you have blisters or other skin problems. All you need to do is put the juice on them and your feet will feel better."

"How do I do that?" Sarah queried.

"Here, I'll show ya." Hoggle gestured for Sarah to hold up her foot and she reluctantly removed it from the soothing waters. He held the root up to her foot and squeezed one of the knobs between his stubby fingers. A thick orange substance squirted out accompanied by a rude noise and he slathered it all over Sarah's blistered feet. Sarah cast Hoggle a disgusted glance, but her revulsion quickly turned to relief as the throbbing pain in her feet quickly eased, disappearing altogether in a matter of seconds.

"Wow! How did you do that?" Sarah exclaimed, shocked at how swiftly the remedy worked.

"I've told ya before and I'll tell ya again. Nothing is as it seems here. The Labyrinth isn't the only place that's more than what it appears. The whole Underground is like that, especially if you're new. It looks like its up to me to teach you a thing or two. Again," he said with a long-suffering sigh, but the twinkle in his eye belied his aggravation and Sarah flashed him a winning smile.

The sun was fast approaching the horizon as Hoggle and Sarah made their way back to the cave Zimri had found. Once again, the five companions had been turned away from the doors of yet another king and queen's palace. This time, it was the King and Queen of the Gorgons who flatly refused them entry. Though sympathetic to the fear that must have pervaded the Underground since Jareth's kidnapping, Sarah could not comprehend the blatant hostility she met with at every palace and castle they approached. Zimri was stumped as well. In fact, none of them understood why they were so unwelcome wherever they went. Despite this, they had decided to make the best of it; around the fire that night, Sir Didymus cheerfully reminded them of the great sufferings and trails all great knights faced on their quests.

Zimri prepared a sparse meal of leftover dried meats, some berries and fruits foraged from the surrounding scrub, and multicolored roots Ludo had inadvertently dug up when he tripped over a rotting tree trunk. The five friends shared a quiet meal, each lost in their own thoughts. Zimri pondered the most appropriate route to reach the Court before nightfall the next day without being seen and captured by the very forces that had overtaken Jareth. Ludo watched the fire with fascination and a twinge of fear. Though he was a giant, forces outside his control made him skittish and the flickering flames dancing before his eyes were at the same time both entrancing and frightening. Sir Didymus and Hoggle bickered about the best way to enter the Court: Hoggle favored secrecy but Didymus—as can be expected—called Hoggle a coward, boasting of entering the Court as brazenly and rashly as possible.

Sarah ignored the other four, lost in a morass of conflicting emotions. She felt discouraged because of their experiences with the kings and queens; moreover, her thoughts circled continually around the fear that they were out of time. She had not expected the journey to take this long and she was growing more concerned that Jareth might be beyond their aid at this point. Her frantic mind was perched on a precipice staring down into the abyss of hopelessness.

Yet she refused to give in to despair; she kept remembering the defiant face of Jareth as he wrestled against his captors in an effort to save her from Danic's perverted desire. She felt again the touch of Jareth's fingers upon her face earlier that morning and savored the lingering feeling of his love in the phantom sensation. Her heart ached for him; her arms were empty without him and no matter how close she inched to the fire, it could not warm the pervasive chill left in the wake of Jareth's violent departure.

Next to her, Ludo yawned loudly, sounding remarkably similar to a foghorn. Hoggle and Sir Didymus stopped their squabbling long enough to echo the tired beast's sentiment.

"Ludo. Tired." Ludo proclaimed as he found a corner of the cave to curl up in. He was soon sound asleep and the noise of his snoring echoed loudly in the cavernous space.

"Not like we're going to get much sleep with that oaf sawing logs like that," Hoggle grumbled. But despite his protests, he was soon fast asleep with Sir Didymus curled up next to him in the perfect picture of sleeping harmony. No one would have known the two had been bitter enemies only minutes before.

"Shall I take the first watch, Sarah?" Zimri asked. "Or would you rather do so? You seem…pensive tonight. Perhaps you would like to stay up a bit longer. To think." Sarah nodded silently and Zimri rose to seek a place to lie down. "Wake me when you are ready to sleep."

"I will," Sarah whispered. She sat unmoving, staring deeply into the flickering flames in front of her, searching them as if they could provide an answer to her quandary.

* * *

She couldn't tell if it was a few minutes or an hour later that she heard the noise. She had been staring so fixedly on the fire she little noticed the passage of time. From the far side of the fire, she heard the distinct snapping of twigs and a rustle of leaves. Instantly alert for any intrusion, Sarah reached for a stout branch should the intruder prove hostile.

"Now now, dearie, that's no way to great a guest." A papery voice rasped in the darkness. "There's no need for that branch, Sarah." As Sarah watched, a frail, bent old crone hobbled into the clearing in front of the fire. She was small and hunched with age. Her face was shrouded in a threadbare grey hood that she threw back as she stepped another few paces closer to Sarah. In the firelight, Sarah could see deep lines criss-crossing the aged face. Two eyes of misty blue peeked out from heavily hooded eyes and the lines around the woman's mouth creased upward in a smile that reached all the way to the depths of her hazy eyes. The old woman stood blinking at Sarah in a friendly way giving no indication that she meant any harm but revealing nothing of her true purpose.

"H—how did you know my name?" Sarah managed to stutter. The old woman merely smiled benignly, as a grandmother might at a beloved, but rather simple, grandchild.

When Sarah received no immediate reply to her question, she fidgeted nervously with her dress, one hand inched back toward the branch she had dropped earlier.

"Aren't you going to invite an old woman to join you?" The woman finally rasped. "It's a cold night, Sarah, and I am in much need of a good blaze to warm my aching bones."

"Um, won't you sit down, please? I'd be…delighted if you would join me," Sarah replied, still nervous. The crone hobbled to the log Zimri had occupied earlier and sat down heavily. Stretching out her hands to the flames, she sighed with evident relief and closed her eyes, pleasure evident on her lined features.

"So, um—" Sarah began, but the old woman interrupted her with an upraised hand.

"Don't rush me, dearie. Let an old woman enjoy a moment of rest." Sarah relapsed into an unsettled silence and she returned to nervously picking at the dirt on her dress. "Ah," the woman shifted her position and opened her eyes. "There now. That's much better." She looked at Sarah expectantly. Sarah fidgeted.

"Well, dear, what did you ask me? I've already forgotten." The old woman tapped her head regretfully. "It isn't what it used to be anymore."

"I, uh, wanted to know how you knew my name. And while we're on the subject, what do you want with me?"

"What do I want with you? My dear girl, that question is absurd. I don't want _anything_ from you or with you. The real question is what you want from me. And as for how I know your name, I have my ways. I hear much because most people think little harm of a gentle old woman like myself. Everyone is talking about the wandering Goblin Queen, Sarah Williams." She cocked her head in a gesture that reminded Sarah very much of a canary.

"Well…I…how am I supposed to know what I want from you? As far as I know, I don't want anything from you. You're the one who chanced upon me, right?" Sarah avered.

"Was I?" The woman replied, once again watching Sarah intently with a slight birdlike tilt of her head.

Sarah stared wide-eyed at the woman across from her. Forgotten were her fears and anxieties to be replaced with pointed confusion and gaping wonderment. _Who is this woman? She's speaking in riddles and it makes no sense! She was the one who came to my fire and joined me here, so why is she trying to make me think otherwise?_

"Would you like me to tell you a story?" the woman asked, swiftly changing the subject to Sarah's continued bafflement. The old woman's eyes fixed on the dancing light of the dying fire. She reached out a withered hand to the stockpile of wood near her and placed a few more branches on the fire, bringing it back to life. Without waiting for an answer, she launched into a tale quite unfamiliar to Sarah:

"Long before the age of man, there was a beautiful maiden with silver hair and pale grey eyes. Her name was Selene and she was beloved by none other than the Sun. Every day as he rode his chariot across the sky he would gaze upon her loveliness and sing to her. He shone ever brighter when she was nigh and he grew so lovesick that he invited her to join him in his travels around the world. She agreed, for she loved him as much as he loved her. Their happiness filled all the sky with light so bright, the creatures of the earth were nearly blinded. Yet the creatures did not complain, nay they could do naught but rejoice in a love so pure and so radiant that it filled their world with light.

But the Sun was not the only one who loved the girl. She was also beloved by the wicked and cruel North Wind, who grew more and more bitter with each passing day as he watched Selene and the Sun basking in their love. He covered the earth in a frost so thick that even the bright rays of the Sun could not thaw it. Finally, he grew so bitter that the creatures of the earth complained to the god of heaven, crying out to him that the North Wind was killing them with his rancor. Unwilling to allow the North Wind to destroy the world, the god of heaven sent a messenger to seek resolution between the embittered North Wind and the lovers. However, the messenger was too late, for—filled with hatred—the North Wind had blown Selene from her lover's chariot. Indeed he blew her so far from the Sun's side that she descended into night and became trapped forever in the night sky as the Moon. So sorrowful was the Sun that he spent the rest of his days chasing after his lost love. He travels still all around the earth in search of her, little knowing that she follows just as swiftly after him as he seeks her.

So it is that the two lovers are doomed to circle the earth in search of each other without ever finding each other. Thus also it is that in winter, when the night begins to overtake the day, the North Wind blows most bitterly in order to stave off Selene's reunion with her beloved."

When the old woman finished, a deep silence pervaded the small clearing. Both women stared fixedly into the fire, neither one daring to break the silence.

Finally, Sarah spoke in a hoarse whisper, saying, "Why are you telling me this?"

"I tell you this tale so that you might heed it, child. Selene and her beloved can never be united because neither is willing to make the sacrifice necessary to unite them forever. In order for you to be united with your beloved, you must be willing to give up your mortal life for him."

"You mean, I have to die?" Sarah replied in a hushed voice.

"You must become immortal, yes, but—"

"How—how is that possible?" Sarah gasped.

Ignoring her question, the old woman continued, "But you must think not only of your own life. The life of your unborn child is at stake as well."

"My what?" One of Sarah's hands flew unconsciously to her stomach. Without saying a word, she knew the old woman was right. Beneath her delicate fingers, she felt a life stirring and growing almost as if in answer to her question. "Oh!" She looked with wonder at her abdomen, which had yet to even show the outward signs of her pregnancy. "OH!" She turned to face the mysterious old woman, "But how did—"

The woman waved away her question again, capturing Sarah's gaze and looking deeply into her jade green eyes. "You must consider your child, Sarah. If you cannot gain immortality before the child is born, your child will be doomed to live a mortal existence, as you are now. It is up to you to win immortality for you both and through that, rescue your beloved. Only you can save them. Only you, Sarah."

Gazing into the old crone's misty blue eyes, Sarah suddenly felt extremely tired. She could not look away from the old woman's determined gaze, but the world around her was fading out of focus. _So…tired. When did I get so tired? Oh, I need to sleep…but…I…have…so…many…questions…._And without another word, Sarah drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The old woman smiled gently and bent over the prostrated form of the Queen. "Sleep well, Goblin Queen," she said, her voice suddenly strong and youthful. "We shall meet again one day." And with a final smile at the sleeping forms about her, she disappeared without a sound into the shadowy forest.

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Thanks for reading! Review, review, review! I can't wait for more! And thanks to all of you who have reviewed so far, I love you all. :)**


	9. The Morning After

**More Sarah! More adventures, and who was that lady anyway?**

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Sarah awoke to the whispered murmuring of her companions gathered around the glowing embers of a morning fire. Stirring slightly, the voices ceased their muted conversation and Sarah opened her eyes to see the four of them looking at her with marked concern in their disparate faces. Zimri—his equine bottom half folded neatly under him with his human arms crossed over his chest—scrutinized her sharply.

"Sarah," he chided, though with due reverence for her position as Queen. "Why didn't you wake me? We could have been discovered by Ammon's spies or at the very least, a wild animal could have raided our food stores." Sarah heard the sharp click of hooves on stone as Zimri shifted his legs in frustration.

"I'm sorry…"she began, bringing to focus the events of the previous night. "I didn't mean to fall asleep, but that woman...I think she put a spell on me."

"What woman?" Hoggle demanded, looking around suspiciously at the brush, as if a strange person might jump out to snatch him unawares.

"I…don't know," Sarah replied. Her bedroll shifted slightly as she raised herself up on one elbow. _How did I end up in my bedroll? I don't remember getting in bed. I just remember looking into her eyes…and feeling tired…_ "It was simply an old woman."

"Didst thou ask her name?" Sir Didymus asked.

"I—no. I didn't. I didn't even think to ask her name," Sarah hung her head, shamefaced. "I'm sorry."

Zimri shifted slightly again, the scrape of his hoofs on the rocks ringing sharply in the crisp morning air. "Sarah, what did she want? Was she from one of the kingdoms?"

"Again, I don't know. She never mentioned it if she was." Sarah lay back on her bedroll, one arm behind her head as she gazed at the cavernous ceiling. "I don't know where she came from or how she knew my name, or even how to find us. She came out of the brush over there," she pointed behind where Hoggle huddled against Ludo for warmth. "She was a very old woman with hazy blue eyes—like she was nearly blind—and a gentle face deeply lined and weathered from many years under the sun. When she smiled, her eyes sparkled with kindness and good humor. But she was stern, too, like my grandmother used to be. She came out of those bushes and asked me to invite her to sit down. She knew my name but refused to tell me how.

"Then she told me a story about the Sun and the North Wind and a woman named Selene. For some reason, it seemed like that was the reason she came: to tell me that story," Sarah pondered a moment before remarking, "It was a very strange story."

"About the North Wind and the Sun being in love with the same woman. Yet the North Wind unwittingly banishes her to spend the rest of her days as the Moon—forever pursuing a lover who pursues her just as fervently but without ever being united?" Zimri summarized. The others, including Sarah, stared at him quizzically.

"Yes! How—how do you know that story?" Sarah asked. "I thought. Well to be honest I thought she made it up."

Zimri shook his head. "She did not fabricate the story. It is a very very old story, one dating back from before the exile. I heard it from my grandfather, whose own great grandfather told it to him—and on and on back generations before the Underground existed. Such is the age of the tale you were told. I do not know if it is fable, fact or some mixture of the two. It is indeed strange that a mysterious old woman would appear merely to tell you that tale," Zimri laughed and when he halted, he stared thoughtfully at the sky. "Did she say anything else to you?"

Sarah hesitated, the truth regarding her pregnancy hovering on her lips. Explaining her situation would only hamper their travels and make her friends overly concerned for her wellbeing. And above all, she must rescue Jareth. _And win immortality apparently, however that works._ She let out her breath slowly in the charged atmosphere and dim light of early dawn. "She told me that I needed to sacrifice my mortality in order to rescue Jareth. That if I am to save him from his fate, I need to gain immortality somehow. She said the Sun and Moon were unwilling to make that sacrifice, which is why they remain fixedly wandering the skies. She also said that only I can save Jareth."

Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus burst out all at once, pestering her with questions, warnings, and expressions of anxiety in turn. Ludo's round eyes peered at her mournfully as he intoned, "Sawah, Die," repeatedly. Hoggle burst into a fresh torrent of dire warnings and threats to leave to avoid further danger while Sir Didymus valiantly promised to protect her virtue and life to the bitter end.

During the backlash, Zimri's composed features were a haven of serenity and comfort for Sarah. She clung to his thoughtful countenance as if it were a lone shelter in the maelstrom of heated opinions; Zimri's impassivity reminded her more of his brother Omri than his usual boisterous self. He, in turn, eyed her watchfully, unwilling to indulge either in pronouncements of doom or in hasty decisions regarding the appropriate way to safeguard her welfare. His gaze bored into hers and the light of dying embers from the morning cookfire smoldered in his dark eyes. As he watched her, Sarah had the distinct impression that he could discern her thoughts, that he was weighing and measuring her words to separate truth from fiction.

"Come my friends, we must not allow our hearts to linger on such dire portents." Zimri boomed, after what seemed to Sarah like an eternity of his pervasive internal scrutiny. "Hoggle, Didymus, clean up the bedrolls and gather up the rest of the belongings. Ludo, stamp out the fire will you? And make sure to cover it with fresh dirt to leave no trace. I don't want anyone knowing we were here, especially with strange old women roaming around the woods at night."

The remainder of the group scurried to accomplish their assigned tasks while Sarah rose, heading for the stream to wash her face, hands and feet—there was not enough time to bathe this morning but the least she could do was look presentable. She moved aside the trailing branches of an overhanging tree on the bank of the laughing waters only to be confronted by Zimri's stern countenance emerging from behind the trunk. She had not even heard his approach.

"I know that you did not tell us everything, Sarah. Because I am your friend, I will not force you to divulge what you have so keenly left out, but as your guide and therefore your protector, I must tell you that anything you keep from us will only hamper our ability to serve you. We are all your friends and you can trust us." Before Sarah could utter a reply, Zimri trotted past her back in the direction of the camp. Disconcerted, Sarah barely felt the chilly water splash onto her face and neck, yet the thought of the child blossoming inside her drove away all her fears.

Pausing, she clasped her hands over her abdomen and felt again the tiny pulse of life stirring in her womb. Overcome with wonder and awe, she beamed at the unseen child and whispered, "I love you." _Although I've never met you, my child, and I do not even know if you are a son or daughter, I do know this: I love you. More than my family, more than my kingdom, more than my life. _Her eyes shimmered as tears of joy bubbled up and spilled over onto her cheeks—iridescence against cream colored flesh. _I don't know how yet, my darling one, but I will win immortality for us both. And you _will_ meet your father one day, I swear! For now, I just hope to get safely to the Court without anyone but me having to worry about you._

* * *

The day wore on much like the others—seemingly endless tramping through rocks and boulders interspersed with stands of trees and hearty scrub. However, rolling hills soon turned to steep ascends over terrain more and more defined by steel greys and dark sables than the greens, yellows, and reds of the hill country. Sarah was once again thankful for the sturdy boots Alegra insisted that she took, for her feet would have soon become bruised and bloodied without them.

The fellowship of five picked their way over layers of shale and hard-packed earth, only infrequently glancing downward toward the gentle, inviting plains below. Hoggle grumbled to himself about the strenuous climb while Ambrosius leapt from rock to rock like a mountain goat, his rider scouting the way and yelling encouragement to the less nimble climbers. Of the group, Ludo seemed most at ease. Every so often he would stop and lean his shaggy head against the rocks, as if listening to them. When Hoggle grumpily asked him what he was doing, Ludo grinned broadly and placed one of his fists tenderly on the stone. "Rocks. Friends," he averred, clearly delighted to be surrounded by so many of them. Sarah smiled in reply, once again enthralled by the paradox that was her giant, hairy friend: though clearly stronger than any creature she'd met, Ludo's demeanor was always gentle and affectionate, more like a puppy than the ogre he appeared to be. _Nothing is what it seems,_ she thought. _Even my own friends. _

As the sun approached its zenith, they reached the beginnings of a small trail wending upward upon the face of a steep cliff. "This is the base of the trail leading to the Court of the wise," Zimri explained. "_They_ prefer to travel by air or by magic so very few visitors ever come on foot."

"So how did this trail get here?" Sarah asked, craning her neck upward in an attempt to see the white pillars of the courtyard. But try as she might, she could see nothing but the slate-grey stone reaching upward until it disappeared into the sky. She even lost sight of the trail about a third of the way up the cliff face.

"Messengers, mostly." Zimri answered. "Those of us who are not of the race of the kings and queens cannot travel here by magic and are rarely allowed escorts by air. We have therefore carved our own way to the Court with our own feet and hands. Don't worry," he continued in answer to Hoggle's unspoken fear clearly etched onto his ruddy face. "They can't see us from here. We can approach stealthily with no one the wiser. Once we reach the top, however, you will have a decision to make Goblin Queen. We will follow you to the Court and stand by your side if you wish to face down Ammon, but I recommend we seek another course."

"Not now, Zimri," Sarah responded. She placed her hands to her head and massaged her aching temples. "Let's talk about this when we get to the top. Right now, all I can think about getting to the Court. What happens when we get there is a question for another time."

"As you wish, Sarah. Come," he gestured grandly to the thin track above them. "We mustn't waste any more time."

* * *

The ascent took longer than Zimri expected. It was due in part to having such a large group of people traveling, but Ludo's size and weight further impeded their progress. He was simply too large and uncoordinated to maneuver the trail safely. They stopped frequently to assist him in maneuvering around narrow stands of rocks and to guide him safely on those parts of the trail little wider than an attic crawlspace. However, despite the lumbering orange beast's awkward frame, the entire group managed to reach the top of the trail intact just as the sun passed beyond the black outline of the mountain peaks above.

None of them dared examine their route from their aerial perch on the top of the cliff, lest they get sick from the dizzying heights or be blown off by the rising night winds. Only Didymus was even courageous enough to get within a few feet of the edge, which itself was enough to make Sarah's stomach turn over. She turned instead to face the imposing structure of buildings not more than a dozen yards from where they all stood. Instead of satisfaction, the Grecian columns and blue marbled buildings filled her with dread. Her stomach twisted into a knot and in the fading sunlight, the graceful arches and curving capitals morphed into something menacing rather than elegant. The myriad candles in the windows winked at her like the ravenous eyes of wolves under a full moon. The howling wind through the gaps and passes of the mountains made her shudder.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Zimri standing beside her. "You don't have to go in, Sarah."

"What do you mean, Zimri? Do you think I'm a coward? This is what I came for!" Sarah replied hotly. "I can't back down now! I won't abandon Jareth when I'm on the verge of finding out what happened to him." The aura of the warrior queen was fully awake now and Sarah radiated protective energy. Green fire flashed brightly against her pale cheeks and she planted her booted feet firmly into the hard-packed earth beneath their feet.

"I never said to abandon him, Sarah," Zimri rejoined.

"You're telling me not to go in there," she pointed back toward the Grecian buildings angrily, Jareth's black traveling cape flaring out behind her outstretched arm. "How is that not abandoning him to whatever fate Ammon and the Court sentenced him to? Shall I walk away from the only place that might offer a solution to Jareth's plight?"

"Perhaps there is another way. You said it yourself: Ammon is in charge now. Lest you have forgotten, his son gave you that bruise on your cheek and the cut on your head. You cannot simply walk into the Court and expect to come out alive, or at the very least, with your virtue intact." Zimri narrowed his eyes significantly.

Sarah gaped at him, understanding flooding her ashen features. "I…I think I understand what you mean," she replied, suddenly chilled.

"Who would thus violate thy honor, my lady? Point me to him and I will fight him to the death!" Sir Didymus shouted, brandishing his staff in the direction of the pale blue buildings, his heels poised to dig into Ambrosius' flanks.

"There is no need for that, my valiant friend," Zimri interjected, placing a gentling hand on Sir Didymus head. "There is another way to learn what you need to know, Sarah." Zimri turned to her with a twinkle in his eye. "Was it not my own fair Queen who commissioned you to seek out, not the Court, but Makarios and Felicia?"

"Yeah, right. That's why we came all this way to the Court, to find Jareth's parents and ask for their help," harrumphed Hoggle, still in a miff about tramping across the Underground for what now seemed like a useless mission. "Only now it seems like we're just going stand around on the top of a steep cliff with the same guy who sent Jareth who knows where just beyond that pile of rocks. I don't know about the rest of you, but as soon as it's light, I'm going home."

"Hoggle?!" Sarah exclaimed.

"I keep telling you I'm a coward, Sarah and don't you forget it."

"And I keep telling you that you're _not_. Be a man, Hoggle. Jareth needs us," Sarah chastised.

"I've told ya before, I don't like him and don't wanna help," Hoggle refused.

"Well then do it for me, Hoggle. Either that, or I'll steal your jewels again," which Sarah knew was precisely the right thing to say to quiet Hoggle's fears, but that didn't keep her from making a false lunge toward Hoggle's waistband. Hoggle jumped away, but made no further mention of going home. Sarah turned to their guide, "Alright Zimri, it sounds like you have a plan."

"Actually, I don't…" Zimri began to say, but he was interrupted by a voice coming from the shadows to their left.

"I do," from behind a large pile of boulders, a figure—hooded and cloaked in black velvet—emerged, stealthy and silent as the grave.

"Ah, Moira, you're late." Zimri extended a hand to the newcomer, who shook his gladly, throwing back the dark hood from her face. The woman—for now they could see clearly that she was—had hair the color of honeyed wheat and eyes a fragrant shade of violet.

She bobbed her head slightly, "It is difficult to escape Ammon's scrutiny these days. Forgive me. I came as soon as I could without arousing suspicion. This must be the Queen." She turned to Sarah and bowed reverently, a genuine smile lighting up her lovely features.

Sarah took an angry step forward with the sounds of heavy boots on shale and dirt. Sensing the Goblin Queen's latent fury, Moira spread her hands defensively in front of her. "Please, Goblin Queen now is not the time. We must get to a place of safety first; out here in the open Ammon or his minions will discover us before you have a chance to help your beloved."

"I _demand_ to know what is going on—" Sarah began.

"_Please_, Goblin Queen. Be patient. All will be told in due time, but for now," she placed a finger over her lips and beckoned the others to follow as she nimbly navigated the rocky terrain without making a sound. The companions followed as silently as they could—a difficult feat due to Sir Didymus' inability to control his volume and his insistence on denouncing Ammon and shaking his staff at the buildings every few feet.

In the end, however, they all arrived safely to where the cloaked woman Moira waited. She shifted her weight and looked about nervously, as if expecting to be discovered at any moment. She stood before what appeared to be the solid wall of the mountain from which the cliff projected, however, after a sequence of taps on the wall, a thin line of flickering light appeared in the stone. A door slid slowly back and Sarah could barely make out the whispered exchange before the five companions were hurriedly ushered into the opening. Behind them, Moira continued to whisper urgently with whoever had opened the door in the mountainside while the rest of them surveyed their new surroundings.

The companions could now see the source of the dim light was a small candle set in an ivory base. Near it, a stone bench was carved from the wall where the guard—for that was his or her likely occupation—could wait in the dark until someone on the other side gave the prearranged signal.

Moira ended her inaudible conversation with the guard and hurried in front of them down the passage, beckoning them to follow her. The narrow passage was interspersed with torch-lit sconces every few feet and the corridor itself wound several thousand feet into the heart of the mountain. After what seemed like half an hour, the company halted at the entrance to a huge hall. Light streamed out of it and they could hear joyous music and laughter ringing into the corridor behind them. As they stepped foot into the bright chamber, Sarah heard a familiar voice hail a greeting.

"Welcome Sarah, Goblin Queen, and all your companions. Welcome to the hidden halls of Makarios, Felicia and all who would seek the downfall of Ammon from the Court and the restoration of Jareth to the Underground."

Sarah lifted her eyes and saw Jareth's parents seated around a long table. Though they were surrounded by other faces, Sarah's wearied eyes could see only them rising to greet her. Leaving all dignity aside, she ran to the arms of her in-laws—now the only parents in her world—and wept.

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I know I didn't answer the question of the old woman's identity, but that will come later. For right now, Sarah's got some major talking to do with the parentals (Jareth's that is). Oh and I would appreciate it if you guys let me know if you think I should keep going. I'm feeling pretty discouraged about it lately. Thanks.**


	10. Explanations

**To those of you who left feedback on my last chapter: **_**thank you so much!**_** I feel **_**so**_** encouraged and have discovered a new source of energy and vigor to keep writing. I'm so blessed to have readers like you. In honor of that, here is another chapter for your reading pleasure. Love, Nienna.**

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"So let me get this straight," Sarah stated. She and Jareth's parents had excused themselves from the joyous revelry in the main hall and sequestered themselves in a small antechamber for more privacy. When they left, Sir Didymus and Hoggle—with occasional interjections from Ludo—had been regaling the company with tales of their numerous adventures, both those of seven years ago and, more recently, those just prior to Sarah and Jareth's joining ceremony. Zimri was holding council with Moira—a good friend of Felicia's and Kyran's aunt—so Sarah had seen no reason not to pester her in-laws with the million questions she had accumulated since Jareth's kidnapping. They had only recently finished telling her Ammon's history and Sarah was still sorting out his relationship to Jareth and his parents.

"So, however many years ago—"

"Roughly five thousand, give or take a few decades," Makarios interrupted. Felicia set a soft hand on his forearm and placed a single, slender finger against her lips. She gestured for Sarah to continue.

"Right, so five thousand years ago, Ammon wanted to marry you, right Felicia?"

The blonde-haired woman nodded. "Yes. Remember when I told you the story of the woman who was in love with the sky? The fiercely passionate woman that many of the princes of the Underground wanted to marry?"

Sarah nodded in the affirmative. "You were speaking about yourself. The story of the young lady was really your version of what you were like when you were a young woman," Sarah stated, remembering the night she had learned of Jareth's agreement with the Court to marry the woman who conquered the Labyrinth. _It was the night that changed everything,_ she recalled. _When I fainted, Felicia accompanied me to the next room to watch over me while I woke up. Then she told me all about when she was a young girl and how her decision to marry the Goblin King is the reason Jareth was born._ She turned to her mother-in-law. "I remember, Felicia."

"Do you recall that I mentioned a man—the King of the pegasi—who fell in love with the girl but she refused to marry him because he was arrogant and cruel?" Sarah nodded and Felicia continued. "The name of the king, which I neglected to mention four months ago, is Ammon."

Sarah gasped, "You mean…"

"The man my lovely wife refused to marry is now the High Arbiter of the Court of the wise," Makarios finished. His gentle face—so like Jareth's with its highly arched eyebrows and thin nose, though it lacked Jareth's mocking sneer and mischievous glint—turned toward his wife with a mixture of adoration and worry. Seeing her troubled expression, Makarios rushed to comfort his wife. "Don't blame yourself, my love," Makarios soothed, cupping her sorrowful chin with one hand. "You could not have known what would happen thousands of years later. You would have been miserable, had you married him. It was always his choice to turn his rejection into bitter hatred and allow it to fester and rot like a carcass in the desert sun. No one forced him to turn rancorous, least of all you."

A single tear slid down Felicia's face, which Makarios wiped away with his thumb. His wife looked at him through her wet lashes—love radiating from her delicate features, "Thank you beloved. I needed to hear that."

"I know," he replied, pressing a compassionate kiss to her forehead and taking her carefully into the consoling embrace of his open arms. Sarah watched the moment with a bittersweet melancholy. The obvious love between the two made her yearn even more strongly for Jareth, her whole body aching to be held in a protective and caring embrace like that with which Makarios held his wife. _I hope someday Jareth and I will be able to gaze with equal affection at each other after the trials and struggles we have experienced and likely will experience again. I long for the day when he can know me as intimately and thoroughly as his father knows his mother; it is so beautiful to see parents so in love after so many years together. Mine didn't even make it to ten years and these two have been married for almost five thousand! But for now, I'll be content when I can see him again face to face rather than only with the pictures from my memory._

"I'm sorry Sarah," Felicia apologized, sitting up from where her head had rested on her husband's muscular shoulder. "I should be giving you explanations instead of wallowing in self-pity and long-dead memories."

"Please, don't apologize. I understand why you might feel responsible for Jareth's kidnapping. But I don't blame you and I know that Jareth would never make it your fault," Sarah laughed lightly. "He'd be more likely to find a way to blame the goblins somehow; they're almost always to blame when something goes wrong in the kingdom."

Felicia smiled weakly and dried her eyes with a small white kerchief Makarios handed her. "I suppose you're right. No sense feeling sorry for myself when no one blames me."

"Exactly right!" Makarios stated vehemently, eager to wean his wife from her fixation on blame and see her face once again free from the oppressive guilt weighing her down.

"So if he was the man who was in love with you all those years ago, why did he retaliate now?" Sarah queried. "Five thousand years is an awfully long time to hold a grudge."

"Do you remember the prophecy I mentioned four months ago?" Felicia replied, leaning forward earnestly.

"The one about your child being the greatest king in the Underground and having the ability to overcome the barrier between Aboveground and Underground? Sure." Sarah answered. _She may not understand, but I have not been able to expel that part of the story from my mind. Whether it is simply because I enjoy thinking about Jareth being more powerful than the other kings and queens or because it still humbles me to realize that he wants _me_ as his Queen, is difficult to say. I do know that I can never forget that prophesy so long as I am Jareth's Queen._

"Well, Ammon wanted to be that boy's father," Felicia replied. "He wanted to sire the child who would one day be more powerful than any other King or Queen in the Underground. Combine a prophesy of unsurpassed magical power with the ability to bypass the banishment that has left us all captive to this place, and you have a prophesy any man would kill to be a part of. To be the father of that prophesied child would have been a huge boost to Ammon's political power and prestige. And the thought of his son being able to pass into the Aboveground suited Ammon's long-held bitterness against the humans. I think he hoped that if his child could travel Aboveground, Ammon might be able to enact some form of revenge. I suppose it also irks him that the son he did have, instead of being powerful, is rather weak when it comes to magical ability. Danic is not a strong magician, nor is he that clever, really. He's a shadow of his father and only a dim one at that."

"If he is a shadow, that does not mean he lacks substance or the power to menace and destroy. Whatever was twisted about Ammon is infinitely more so in his son," Makarios noted. "Ammon is an arrogant, self-aggrandizing, bitter man with an enormous burden of anger and resentment on his shoulders; his is a darkness born of unrealized expectations. Danic, however, was born dark and twisted, as if the offspring purely of Ammon's demented hatred. He is more a child of hell than of the light, depraved to his very core and almost feral in his bloodlust and perversion. Of the two, I fear the son more than the father and believe Ammon is driven more by jealously and revenge rather than the pure delight in terror that drives Danic."

Sarah shuddered and a silence thicker than that cloaking a funeral procession descended on the small room. Danic's leering face—its sunken eyes and skeletal features framed by greasy dark hair—loomed in Sarah's memory. She recalled his contemptuous laughter and her cheek smarted afresh with the memory of his leather-clad fist making contact with her fragile skin. Too frightened to speak more of Danic, she returned the conversation to the wicked boy's father. "So Ammon used Jareth's restoration of Toby's memory as an excuse to gain power and exact revenge?" Sarah guessed.

The other two nodded in assent, "We both believe that he has been waiting for just such an opening to occur so that he can punish Jareth—and the two of us—for what he believes he had a right to and lost," Makarios folded his hands in his lap in a gesture of solemn resignation before continuing. "He's always hated Jareth for not being his own son and Jareth's, ahem, rather impish nature made him an easy target for Ammon's plot. When Jareth refused to listen to the Court's edict concerning the Labyrinth and was forgiven for it, Ammon seized the opportunity to foment rebellion, lying in wait for Jareth to make another obstinate response to the Court's authority."

"So when Phainon refused to take action swiftly enough for Ammon's taste, Ammon staged a coup with those he already knew were discontent with Phainon's peacemaking and forgiving manner towards our rather precocious son." Felicia smirked fondly, a delicate and more feminine echo of the expression Sarah oft found gracing her husband's handsome face.

All mirth aside, the conversation reminded Sarah of the one she had a week ago with two she had supposed her friends. "So when Kyran and Alegra knowingly withheld such obviously important information from me…"

"They were only safeguarding our privacy, Sarah. Do not be angry with them," Felicia replied. "They did not want to begin a tale they could not finish, as they did not have access to the history in full. Would you rather they had given you only half the information and sent you on your way—only to have you worry over the bit they gave you like a goblin with a chicken bone?"

Sarah shook her head slowly, still angered at being kept in the dark regarding her opponent and his malicious intentions toward Jareth and his entire family. "You're right," she sighed reluctantly. "I suppose this was the better way, but I still dislike secrecy on such a grave matter. However, that does remind me of something. There was one other question they refused to answer." The couple across from her tensed visibly but Sarah persisted. "Where is Jareth anyway?"

Once again, silence flooded the room and the cold stone of their surroundings suddenly weighed heavily on them all. "Sarah…there really is no easy way to say this…" Makarios faltered.

"Somebody _please_ just tell me!" Sarah shouted angrily, fed up with being pandered to like a child.

"He's in the Underworld," Makarios exhaled sharply, forcing his words out like air from a bellows.

"What do you mean? I thought that's where we are now."

"Not the Under_ground_," Felicia corrected. "The Under_world_." Sarah was still genuinely and naively puzzled, which brought a measure of composure to her in-law's manner. They looked at her sympathetically. "It's where people go when they die, sweetie." Felicia explained.

"You mean Jareth's _dead?!_" Sarah screamed. She rose from her seat across from Makarios and Felicia and continued to shout at the unforgiving walls. "Why didn't anyone tell me? Why have I wasted all my time coming here just to find out that Jareth is in a place people only go to when they die? Kyran and Alegra could have saved me the blood, sweat and tears I spent traveling across the entire Underground if they'd just _told _me!!"

"No, Sarah, you don't understand—" Makarios soothed, but his gentle words went unheeded.

"Don't understand? What is there not to understand?! My husband is dead and none of my friends have the decency to just tell me. I…I just can't believe it!" Exhausted and broken-hearted, Sarah sank down in her chair and wept into her hands. _Jareth…my beloved Jareth. I can't believe you're gone. I never even got the chance to try to save you…and now it's too late…you're gone forever…_

"Sarah, look at me." She felt a hand on her head and she dammed up her tears long enough to stare up into Felicia's pale blue eyes. Once she thought them icy, now she believed them more closely akin to the color of a warm, comforting summer morning—like the ones she used to love as a young girl. She could feel warmth seeping into her despairing soul from where Felicia's small hand pressed against her shoulder. "Jareth is not dead, Sarah."

"I don't understand, you said—"

"I said the Underworld is where _people_ go when they die, Sarah, _human_ people. Jareth is not human." Felicia's full lips curved into an amused grin, like a mother whose child has accidentally used salt instead of sugar to make cookies. Sarah's mouth formed a small "o" of understanding before she blushed crimson with chagrin.

"Don't be angry with yourself, Sarah," Makarios comforted. "Anyone could have made the same mistake. We understand."

"So," Sarah whispered softly, still embarrassed about her needlessly angry outburst. "What happens to one of _you_ when you go to the Underworld?"

"For us, it is something like a limbo existence," Makarios explained. "We are immortal, as you know, so our souls cannot exactly die. When a titan is sent to the Underworld, they continue to exist, but as only a fragment of themselves: still alive in every sense of the word, but powerless. It is supposed that they have no real magical ability in the Underworld, for Hades—Lord of the Dead—still rules there and he suffers no one to have any power there but himself. Otherwise, any one of us who descends to the Underworld could escape and free others there as well."

"So it's impossible to ever get out of the Underworld." Sarah concluded, slumping heavily against the back of her chair in defeat.

"Not so fast," Felicia replied. "Makarios didn't say that. You humans have a tale of a man who went to the Underworld to rescue his wife." Sarah looked back at them blankly, so Felicia continued. "Are you unfamiliar with the ancient tale of Orpheus and Eurydice? Orpheus was a human man—an extremely talented musician—whose lovely wife Eurydice had the misfortune to die. Determined not to live without her, Orpheus traveled to the Underworld, wooing Cerberus with the haunting melody of his harp, and convinced Hades to free his beloved. The Lord of the Underworld agreed to release her but Orpheus was commanded not to look back to see if she followed him, lest he lose her forever. Sadly," Felicia sighed. "The poor man was unable to complete the journey on faith and his beloved wife was lost to him for eternity, that is, until he joined her in the Underworld at his own death."

"So if it was possible once, it can occur again? Is that what you're saying?" Sarah asked hopefully.

"Well…" Makarios hesitated, glancing nervously at his wife.

Sarah attacked his uncertainty like a cat pouncing on its prey, "But you just said it was possible!"

"It did happen once," Felicia concurred. "But that is no guarantee it can occur again. The tale I just told happened many, many years ago, Sarah—back when the Olympians ruled the Aboveground. It is almost certain that such an excursion between worlds was only possible because the Olympians enjoyed breaking the established rules and hierarchies governing the Aboveground, Underground and Underworld. Now that they have all fallen into ruin—and are likely denizens of the Underworld themselves—there is none to grant free passage for mortals into the Underworld."

"So how am I supposed to get Jareth back?" Sarah moaned, once again torn between despair and anger.

"I suppose," Makarios pondered aloud. One hand was poised philosophically beneath his chin, cupping it between his thumb and forefinger. "I suppose you would have to become immortal." Sarah stared at him openmouthed, agog at the familiar words pouring from his thoughtful lips. "The only way I can think of would be for you to somehow become immortal. They say that any titan who enters the Underworld willingly has the possibility of retaining their own powers. And if not, at the very least you could go to Hades and beg for Jareth's life," his eyes twinkled. "Though I doubt very much that you are the begging kind. You'd be more likely to bully him into giving Jareth back to you, which I don't doubt you would be able to accomplish easily. If you can defeat Jareth, I believe you would be able to confront the Lord of the Dead and win."

"That's what the old woman said," Sarah whispered, her voice filled with awe and a slight tinge of fear.

"What old woman?" Felicia queried.

Sarah explained her experience with the midnight visitor to her camp the previous night and how she had told Sarah the only way to rescue Jareth was to win immortality. As with her friends, she left out the information regarding her pregnancy—she didn't want to worry them needlessly, for she had already determined that her child would not hinder her quest to rescue her husband. After all, the woman had also told her that her child would be doomed to a mortal life if she did not succeed in gaining immortality, so there was no choice left to her but to seek eternal life. However, she did recount the strange story the old woman had told her and Zimri's assessment of it, to which they both agreed.

When she had retold the tale in full, she bluntly asked them the question that had been nagging her since the old woman had first mentioned immortality: "How am I supposed to gain eternal life?"

"There is only one answer to that question, dear daughter," Felicia answered. "You must find the first King and Queen of heaven and get them to grant it to you."

"It's the only way," Makarios interjected. "Only Chronus and Rhea—the original King and Queen of heaven that the Olympians deposed—only they have the power to grant immortality to mortals. If you are determined to rescue Jareth from the Underworld, you must find them and convince them to grant you immortality."

A million other questions and thoughts swirled through Sarah's dizzy consciousness like so many bees on a hot summer's day. However, she refused to allow the plenteous distractions to triumph. _Too often I have given in to fear and allowed the unknown to daunt me needlessly. No. Today, I am no longer the sixteen-year-old child running endlessly down a doorless corridor into infinity. I am no longer the child kicking uselessly at the stone corridors while refusing to admit that my own perspectives are warped and limited, or the arrogant teen rushing headlong into danger by rashly boasting of my own prowess to the creator of the maze. I am not Sarah Williams of the Aboveground any longer; I am Sarah, Goblin Queen and Conquerer of the Labyrinth. I refuse uncertainty. I reject fear. Most of all, I denounce my ignorance and embrace the courage to move forward. All the rest is but vain interference—they have no power over me. _

Drawing herself up to her full height, Sarah's deep green eyes blazed defiantly into the unseen face of danger. _I have already passed through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered to win back a child that was stolen. I have conquered a Labyrinth and won the heart of a king. I shall now face the unseen perils and lurking pitfalls of the Underground to win immortality for myself, my child and my beloved. Wherever you are, Chronus and Rhea, I shall find you. Or I will die trying._

**

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Sarah's off to go win back Jareth! More adventures to come and I promise, they are plenty interesting! Please review and let me know what you think. I love feedback and you're your guys' thoughts into account as I continue my story. You all are wonderful!**


	11. Fall from Heaven

**Thanksgiving was FAR busier than I intended (I went to my in-laws' house in WI) so I got absolutely nothing done while I was there, except, of course, all my Christmas shopping. So, after a hiatus I never intended to be this long, here is another chapter for your reading delight! Enjoy!**

_

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Should any wish further knowledge of the early ages of settlement and reconstruction in the Underground, he or she may consult the Titanic Archives, located in the Court of the Wise, for in the these archives are collected the personal reflections and writings of one Asenath—the current Record-Keeper for the Court of the Wise—in her first few centuries in the Underground. Of Chronus and Rhea it is there written:_

_From my bench in the small antechamber outside the King and Queen's throne room, I can see the dim yellow sky of the place I now call my home. I miss the blue skies and cotton-seed clouds of the Aboveground. I cannot forget the golden rays of the sun as Coeus drove his chariot across the sky or Oceanus' laughing face as he and his wife danced in the waves of the Great Sea. Somehow, these shadowed lands and roughshod hills appear no less a crypt than had Zeus and his siblings thrown us into the depths of Erebus itself. However, I must try to resist the urge to succumb to despair, for I have taken it upon myself to write my thoughts and impressions of this new world of our exile. I must not fail our future generations, for with any hope, these recollections will be read by them in the Aboveground, as our exile will then be nothing more than ancient history._

…_It has not yet been a hundred years since our great King and Queen were deposed from their thrones and the years weigh heavy on us all. The first few years were spent in misery and hope: misery regarding our present situation and hope for a better future in which we might be restored to our former glory. However, after a decade or two, it was clear that return to the Aboveground—as we now call it—if possible at all, would be far off. Though our King and Queen encouraged what remained of the once celestial court that a way out could be found given enough time, their children and other relations soon lost hope. _

_From the beginning, there were those who adjusted better than others to their new surroundings. The younger generation—having fewer memories of life ruling the heavens and a greater capacity to accept a new future—exhorted the older to accept their place in this world and make the best of it. Alas, for fifty years their cries and assertions went unheeded by the majority of the court. Thus it is only within the last decade that we have begun to organize ourselves into a sustainable kingdom. We have accepted our place in the Underground and must now find a suitable way to not just survive (as we have been) but to thrive, to build a kingdom to rival that which the Olympians selfishly took for their own. _

_Chronus and Rhea have been renamed King and Queen of the Underground. Understandably, only a few of our former subjects join us in our exile, and all are creatures either too frightened of or undesirable to the new regime: talking beasts, giants, the monokeros, and a few of our most loyal centaur guards. There are rumors that the Olympians are fast making enemies of a number of other races in the Aboveground, but as they are unsubstantiated, we can only expect that those present now are the permanent and sole denizens of Tartarus. Whether or not our small kingdom will expand beyond its miniscule beginnings is for the future to show us._

_However, though we have begun to build a kingdom in these lands to which we have been banished, it is clear our great King and Queen are yet preoccupied with the past. They have eyes, but do not see the world of the hurting that surrounds them; they have ears, but the cries of the angry and despairing might as well be mute. Instead of the dim yellow skies above them, they remained fixated on the diamond–flecked black skies of their once kingdom. Instead of the untamable lands of the Underground, they see the snow-capped mountains and crystal blue seas of their former home. Rhea especially is filled with grief and sorrow about her former subjects; she worries more for the weak and simple humans now ruled by the Olympian court than she does for her own family now sequestered in this dim wasteland. She is gifted with foresight and should she turn her mind to her court, she might provide much-needed hope and encouragement. But her mind sees only the sorrowful and bleak future of the Aboveground under the rule of the Olympians. She cannot see the suffering of her own people. _

_Chronus, too, thinks more of his past than his future. He berates himself for his fearful response to his now rebellious children. He cannot seem to move beyond guilt; the weight of his own failure as a king and father shrouds him like a winter mantle. While both are preoccupied with the past, there are rumblings of a new rebellion in these ranks, for some desire to depose them in favor of a King and Queen more attentive to the needs of the other titans and their families. Those of us who are loyal to our King and Queen pray that such a catastrophe does not occur; however at the rate the dissent is growing, it may not be long before they are once again deposed from their rightful throne._

_These are the private recollections of Asenath, Court Attendant to Chronus and Rhea, King and Queen of the Underground, Underground year 79. _

* * *

…_Praise be that the much feared rebellion has not occurred; instead, another event has occurred to refocus our great King and Queen on the present rather than the past: their oldest son had a child, a healthy baby boy named Timeos. Few children came with us in our exile and defeat and the birthrate so far has been bleak. A child is born once every few decades, and newly joined couples must wait years before even having the hope of a child. In point of fact, this is only the third child to be born under the curse and the first to have been conceived here (the other two children were conceived before the exile and born afterward). It is therefore no surprise that his birth startled the waning King and Queen from their lethargy. Indeed, the boy is already a beacon of hope to not only his sorrowful grandparents, but also the entire royal court: his smiles beam like rays of sunshine in a depressed land. There is already talk of him being the hope for the end of life in the Underground, for such a bright boy cannot help but bring all of us joy. _

_Moreover, another series of events has caused the King and Queen to renew their interest in matters of family and government here in the Underground. In the past several months, there have been an increasing numbers of reports from the Aboveground that matters on earth are beginning to run wild. Just last month we heard that Zeus—Chronus' knavish and reckless youngest son—has seduced yet another human woman in his unending quest for pleasure. The other Olympians meddle increasingly more in the affairs of the humans whom they are supposed to respect and protect. It seems they are attracted to the frail and finite creatures in a rather loathsome way; Zeus is not alone in his lustful pursuits. We hear an alarming number of reports that both the male and female rulers of Olympus are having amorous affairs with the humans. Such would never have been permitted under Chronus and Rhea. However tyrannical Zeus thought his father, our King would never have allowed such wantonness as exists under the son's authority, for the humans are not even permitted the dignity of being wed to their pursuers! They are treated as mere playthings to soothe the craven appetites of those who should protect them and honor them. The women are mere chattel to be used and thrown away, and the children of such unions fare no better. A few are begrudgingly given immortality to sit beside their celestial father or mother, but the rest are doomed to mortality, thrust upon a cruel world that detests their very existence. It is a tragic state of affairs and we fear it may only get worse. _

_These are the private recollections of Asenath, Court Attendant to Chronus and Rhea, King and Queen of the Underground, Underground year 85._

* * *

…_Many centuries have passed since we heard any news from Aboveground. Some among us hope that this signifies a change in the habits of the Olympians. Others fear the worst: that the Olympians have fallen into ruin. I do not know what to think. Our great Queen's ability to read the movements and events of the Aboveground has faded since we arrived, leaving us blind to the fates of those dwelling above us. _

_In what appears to signal a more dire turn of events, we have seen a great influx of creatures seeking refuge from the Aboveground. Chronus welcomes all outcasts from the Aboveground, so our once small kingdom of fifty titans, titanesses and their families has grown to over ten thousand creatures of all different kinds—unicorns (the monokeros), sprites, pegasi and even some of the more dangerous creatures like hydras, gremlins, and gorgons. It is becoming increasingly difficult for a single reigning monarch and consort to rule over the entire conglomeration of scattered races. There is talk among the courtiers that we should divide the kingdom into more manageable parcels—for example dividing it by geographic locality or racial markers. I think the latter the better option so as to avoid the bickering and quarreling so common in the Aboveground under the Olympian rule. I have advised the King and Queen and continue to hope and pray that they see reason. I would hate to see anything happen to them after the anguish they have already experienced._

_Their grandchild Timeos continues to grow strong and wise. At only four years away from breaking two centuries old, he is nearly come of age and come into his full power. There is much hope surrounding the shining boy. Had we been Aboveground, we would have proclaimed him born under a lucky star, but we cannot determine the placement of the stars in this dim place and so we can only guess at his astrological portents. However, no one will deny the skill he has already displayed in magic; just a few days ago he was able to construct a castle imbued entirely by magic during the Festival of the Golden Moon. (I believe he is attempting to gain the favor of Hyperion's granddaughter Mnera, who is quite a beautiful and delightful young woman. No wonder the boy is showing off his magical skills.) We can only hope this is but a harbinger of grander magical feats to come rather than the extent of his abilities. If the former, we may yet break this curse that looms over us; if the latter, we must wait for another to rescue us and not even our foresighted Queen seems able to predict when that might be. (Or if she is, she is withholding that from us. But I cannot imagine she would act thusly, so I must conclude that her powers are dimming with the passage of time in the Underground.) _

_These are the private recollections of Asenath, Court Attendant to Chronus and Rhea, King and Queen of the Underground, Underground year 279._

* * *

…_This day, I have both joyous and sorrowful news to report; I suppose it best to start with the latter, since I only have a short period of time to write today. The upheaval and chaos surrounding the royal court allows little leisure time for non-governmental business. I am pressed for time even writing this. _

_To our great disappointment, though it has been five years since Timeos came of age he has shown no signs of being able to break through the barrier preventing our release. He is a talented and strong magician, but not strong enough. The barrier Zeus erected to keep us imprisoned in the Underground shows no signs of weakening, much less collapsing. We are doomed to a longer stay here than we initially thought—a gloomy prospect. _

_Added to that is the disturbing (and recent) disappearance of our King and Queen; a few days ago, Chronus and Rhea went missing from their bedchamber in the middle of the night and neither hide nor hair of them has been seen since then. We do not know where they have gone. Some of the more pessimistic members of the royal court send out whispers of suicide or self-inflicted banishment to the Underworld. Others, myself included, think that they have merely gone on a journey throughout the Underground, to wander the realms they cannot leave in search of peace and rest from their labor. We cannot say where (or if) they will finally dwell, but I think it will be somewhere far away from the affairs of their descendents. I also wonder if they may one day walk among us unseen and unknown, gently watching over the affairs of the children. For now, they have left us only chaos along with the outwards symbols of their authority. When they left, they arranged their diadems and chains of office on their bed along with a note, which read:_

"_We have done what we can to furnish our children and their children with the tools, skills and wisdom to begin and continue their life here in the Underground. There is nothing more that we can do and our continued reign as King and Queen would only impede any further progress. We are relics of a long dead way of life; your future is now in your hands. We can do no more than offer one final message of hope: though Timeos is not the solution to our struggles, there will be another. We have seen it. Farewell."_

_This final cryptic message is all they have left us. I suppose only time will tell what will come of it. It seems Rhea _has_ seen a vision she will not communicate with us, and alas, her absence has made any further insight impossible. I was sadly mistaken in my belief that she would not hide such important news from us and am torn in whether to fan the flame of my wrath or trust her wisdom and insight into matters beyond by ken. I must speak with my sister Opalia about this, for I am in deep distress. _

_Before I leave, I must make mention of the good news I referred to earlier. Timeos was indeed successful in wooing the heart of Mnera—the woman he built the magic castle for over thirty years ago now—and their joining has already resulted in a child! (Very rarely do unions bring forth children so quickly and even since Timeos' delivery the birth rates have risen only slightly, which is why we were all so amazed that Mnera has already born a child). She is a beautiful little girl with wispy blonde hair and icy blue eyes the color of a winter sky; they have called her name Felicia and hope that the name will indeed bring good fortune to the Underground. But now, I must leave off my reflections for another time; we are in the midst of negotiating borders for a newly established kingdom and the bickering can be something fierce. A cool-headed and well-informed mind is much desired in these deliberations, so it seems my knowledge of history and keen eye for observation cannot be done without. _

_These are the private recollections of Asenath, Court Attendant to Chronus and Rhea, King and Queen of the Underground, Underground year 308._

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I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I promise I'll get back to the main story line this time, but I wanted to add some more back story to help set the stage for what is coming next. I hope that in the next few weeks, I will be able to step up the pace a lot from what it has been. Please leave a review if you have the time; I always love to hear from you!**


	12. I Dreamed a Dream

**Lots of ground to cover today! There's a bit of back and forth between the Underworld and the Aboveground, but we're checking in with Jareth and Toby, so I hope you think it's worth it. ;) More Sarah next time! Enjoy!**

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Toby woke with a start, bolting upright as his knight themed comforter fell off his shoulders to pool haphazardly around his waist. The alarm clock on his nightstand glared in the predawn darkness, four twenty-three emblazoned in red light across its dismal face. He had been having a nightmare about Sarah, but the adrenaline of his startled awakening had flushed it from his consciousness. The formerly sharp contours of the harsh landscape of Sarah's bedroom wall, covered in blood blurred and faded into the night.

Throwing his covers aside, he tiptoed on bare feet across the carpet from his bed to the dated wooden dresser lounging contentedly in the far corner of his room. Once it had bedecked Sarah's room and before that, his grandparent's guest room; he liked the way the ancient woodwork creaked and moaned as if trying to speak to him of the many interesting lives and stories it had seen in its many years. Tonight, however, he mentally bemoaned the groaning wood beneath his fingers. His mother was a light sleeper and he didn't want to have to explain what he was doing in his underwear drawer at four-thirty in the morning. He pried the bottom drawer open slightly and shoved his tiny hand into it blindly, fishing about beneath the layers of Spiderman and Batman printed undies until his hands made contact with something smooth, round and cold. Drawing his hand out, he took a moment to survey the crystal orb with trepidation before tiptoeing back to his bed and hopping swiftly under the covers.

He cupped the sphere in his two tiny hands and gazed into it as he had done many nights—and days—before this. However, this time was different, this time it was possible the crystal wouldn't answer: it was possible Sarah was dead. Toby recalled the shock and horror he had felt when he had inadvertently summoned the image of Sarah—unconscious and bleeding—crumpled against the wall of her bedchamber. Ever since that day, he had been too fearful to look into the crystal for fear of not receiving a response from his beloved sister.

Refusing at last to give in to fear, Toby summoned up his courage and stared fixedly at the crystal orb in his hands. At first, he could only see the curved image of his palms in through the clear glass but—mentally calling out Sarah's name to the unseen magic he held—something began to take shape deep within it. At first, he could only see a minute figure with dark hair and an emerald green gown. She appeared to have a heavy burden on her back and as the picture grew larger and clearer, Toby could see that the woman was carrying a travel pack weighed down with unknown contents. She was on a journey somewhere.

Her face turned, bringing it into sharp focus and Toby exhaled sharply in relief—Sarah was alive.

"Sarah," he whispered. The woman in the crystal didn't move; she continued to gaze ahead of her. She wiped sweat from her brow absent-mindedly, leaving a smear of dust across her porcelain forehead.

Keeping the orb in hand, Toby hopped from his bed and crept stealthily to the door of his bedroom. He opened the door and looked both ways down the hallway surreptitiously; his eyes lingered on his parent's bedroom door ten feet away, but he heard no sound behind the closed door so he slithered back into bed like a lizard under a rock.

He cupped the crystal to his face a second time and whispered Sarah's name louder. Still, she gazed forward steadily, her face fixed determinately on the invisible horizon. Toby dared to raise his voice a few more notches but his frantic, hoarse cries went continually unheeded. Whatever Sarah was doing, it drowned out the voice of her brother. She was consumed with her quest and Toby could not reach her.

* * *

"What in the hell are you talking about, Hermes?" Jareth asked flatly. The irony of his choice of words was not lost on either man and Hermes twinkled mischievously at his companion's wry humor.

"Not listening again, Jareth?" The young man shook his head in mock-rebuke, his golden girls bouncing merrily. "_Tsk-Tsk_. You mother didn't teach you proper manners."

Jareth was fuming. _All I want to do is get out of this…_place…_and get back to my wife and this moron can't seem to keep from mocking me at every turn. First he insults my family for being overthrown; then, he insults me for being banished here; now he insults my mother? I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. I'm the hapless victim of a vindictive bastard's plot to get back at my mother and my family for ruining his chance to attain the glory he wrongfully thinks he deserves. In what universe does that make it appropriate for a has-been mutineer damned to hell to criticize the very people being attacked so needlessly? It just isn't fair!_ He halted. From somewhere in the back of his mind, an echo of a memory overrode his heated tirade against Hermes: _"You say that so often. I wonder what your basis for comparison is."_

He grimaced at his own words come back to haunt him. The revived face of his wife as a teenager—her face alight with determination and hate—strangely moved him. It called to mind the most recent image he had of his beloved Sarah: her bleeding head tipped precariously on her shoulders as she slumped against a wall, a bruise purpling on her creamy skin. In a flash, he forgot his anger at Hermes; the man was a fool, reliving his former glory and power by mocking a helpless man who belonged to the family that—regardless of his protestations otherwise—he and his siblings hated more than death itself. This was indeed hell: to be tormented by one who had once destroyed your family's dynasty and thrown them into the dim world of the Underground to piece together their lives in misery. To give in to hate would be merely to play to this youth's vanity, to allow him to have power once again. _Whatever he once was to my great-great grandparents, he is nothing to me now but a means to help me out._ Jareth smirked as a plan began to coalesce in his mind. _He may be a liar and a trickster, but if there is one thing I'm good at, it's getting what I want, and what I want is to get out of this cursed place. _

Twisting his face into something he hoped looked remorseful, Jareth approached the man opposite him humbly. Kneeling before him as contritely as any holy pilgrim at the walls of Jerusalem. "Hermes, forgive my anger. I feel so…_powerless_ here. The fact that _that man_ in the Underground was capable of overcoming me and banishing me here grates me; I wrongfully directed that anger at you, who have done me no wrong. Please, accept my apologies. I'm sure you are capable of forgiveness," he joked as he stood to face the youth directly, hoping to appeal to Hermes' jovial nature. "No matter how snide your attitude."

Hermes tilted his head loftily, intent on appearing both aloof and vexed because of Jareth's behavior, though the veneer was thin. Jareth could plainly see the delight breaking through the mask of irritation on the youth's pale face. He had struck the right balance between remorse and humor to mollify Hermes. The former messenger of the gods believed Jareth to be sincerely sorry for his behavior and was now willing to help him without mocking him.

Jareth grinned inwardly at his success as Hermes' sighed melodramatically and exclaimed, "I suppose I can forgive you. We're two peas in a pod after all. I can't really stay angry at you without hating myself at the same time, now can I?"

Jareth nodded, though he cringed inwardly at being likened to the rag-tag youth across from him.

Hermes' countenance immediately brightened. "And sorry about your mother, old chap. I'm sure she's a nice woman, but you do seem to have lost your sense of hearing since you came here," he winked playfully. "Maybe the shades got something from you after all. By all accounts, I suppose it isn't the worst thing you could lose. Take Zeus for example—the old stallion that he is—he hasn't had much…comfort since coming here," Hermes coughed delicately. "Of the female kind, if you know what I mean, and it hasn't been for want of trying. You'd think the old bastard would remember he's in hell and try not to mess with the ladies!"

At the look of revulsion on Jareth's face, Hermes hurriedly continued, "Oh, not that he's going after the dead people! Even _he_ isn't that low, but he's still as amorous as ever when it comes to the other former goddesses. Hera is livid. Even in hell she can't keep her husband in line. Not that she has anything to worry about, Zeus can't seem to, ahem, make it work." He raised his eyebrow significantly. "You know, he can't—"

"I understand you perfectly, Hermes. No need to go into all the gory details." Jareth retorted, repulsed by the boy's loose mouth and the other man's even looser morals. _I suppose it might be too much to ask for them to have changed after a couple millennia_. Another awkward silence ensued. Hermes grinned self-complacently at his gossip-mongering; Jareth stared uncomfortably off into the distance.

"So," Jareth began. "Is it true that you can really see into the minds of those in the Aboveground and the Underground?"

"Not so much the Underground anymore, something is blocking my visions. But I can see into the Aboveground every once and a while." Hermes shifted his weight and eyed Jareth appraisingly, measuring the options of whether to speak or not. Making up his mind, he looked around him surreptitiously before beckoning Jareth closer. He cupped his hand over one side of his mouth and Jareth had the surreal sense that Hermes was making him a conspirator in something dark and sinister. "I'll let you in on a little secret. I told you before that I can cross barriers and though its true I've lost much of my ability to _physically_ travel across the barriers, that doesn't mean I can't travel another way." He raised an eyebrow knowingly, as if communicating something secret without words.

Jareth was at a loss as to Hermes' intended implication. He gestured for Hermes to continue, "I'm sorry, I don't precisely understand what you mean."

The youth sighed heavily and Jareth suddenly felt like a child. "I may not be able to physically move from one place to the other, but I can travel to the Aboveground _mentally._"

Jareth's face was blank.

"I can visit their _dreams_!" Hermes shouted, throwing up his hands in exasperation. Jareth's mouth formed a silent 'O' of comprehension.

"How?"

"That part's easy. All you have to do is think in the general direction of the Aboveground. If you have a specific person in mind, that's even better; it makes the whole process so much simpler than if you send out a general 'call' upward. At least, that's what I've discovered." Hermes laughed at the bemused expression Jareth wore, a light chuckle building to riotous laughter as Jareth continued to stare at him with a glazed expression. Slowly, Jareth realized that Hermes has somehow made him the butt of a cruel joke. "You look positively dumbfounded!" Hermes managed to gasp between peals of laughter. "I can't believe you fell for it. Priceless!" He continued laughing as Jareth soothed his injured pride, thereby bringing his seething anger under control.

Through gritted teeth, Jareth asked regarding the object of Hermes' mirth. "What, pray tell, did I 'fall for'? Can you not really travel to people's dreams?"

"Oh I can do that," he replied, his words still punctuated with laughter. "But everyone here can. You thought I was letting you in on some big secret that only I could do, but the truth is, visiting people's dreams is just another one of Hades' twisted jokes." Hermes wiped mirthful tears from his eyes and continued, more calmly, "Even the shades of the dead humans can visit the Aboveground. Hades' finds it extremely amusing to watch people be visited by their dead relatives, especially when the people themselves have no idea what is going on. The shades usually want nothing more than to comfort their family members and recapture a sense of camaraderie with the world they've departed, but the humans think they're being haunted because they did something wicked. It is _quite_ a delicious joke. That is, if you're into that sort of thing."

Jareth ignored Hermes' obviously twisted attempt at self-effacement. "So am I capable of doing so?"

"Sure," Hermes shrugged. "Why not? But why would you want to? You don't have family up there; you're an Undergrounder."

"I don't," Jareth replied, his mismatched eyes twinkled with mischief and hope. "But my wife does."

* * *

Toby meandered the dreamscape effortlessly. It was one of his more pleasant dreams featuring himself as the sole adventurer daring enough to attempt to track down and defeat the fearsome gold dragons attacking hapless villages across the dream kingdom he inhabited. Donning bright silver armor that reflected the sun's rays in moon-like majesty, Toby girded his dream sword of polished metal and mounted his dapple-grey mount in search of the dragons.

He crossed the green meadows and dim-lit woods of his dream with a courageous heart. He knew the dragons' lair lay just beyond the next hillock, in a dank cave nestled between the rough-hewn boulders and crags of the mountain's feet. His brave spirit and stout heart never faltered as he rounded the bend to come face to face with journey's end. His dream ego imagined the glistening scales reflecting ambient light from the cave's opening, smoke curling listlessly from the end of the three golden snouts, wicked claws and even sharper teeth bared for combat and his own glory in the victory he expected to attain.

However, when he completed his route around that final hill, his eyes met not three loathsome dragons curdled with bloodlust, but instead a single figure, garbed in white and grey. The man stood directly in front of the cave wherein lay the end of Toby's quest; he seemed pale, washed out, like a watercolor painting faded in the sun. He wore a snow-white tunic belted at the waist with a simple leather belt and tight gray breeches. Plain white leather sandals girded his feet. His hair flew wildly about his disturbingly familiar face and a golden amulet winked from beneath the open collar of the tunic.

The knight Toby stared at the apparition before him dazedly. This figment of a man did not fit with his dreamscape; he was unfamiliar in the well-known and oft-traveled lands of Toby's midnight imagination. He took a step toward the mounted knight and called out a greeting.

Toby hesitated, both compelled by the familiarity of the voice and repulsed by his shocking dissimilarity to the rest of the world surrounding them.

"Toby," the man repeated. "Toby, it's me, Jareth."

"Jareth?" The knight puzzled. "I don't think I know a Jareth, good sir. Please, step aside, and let me fulfill my quest. I must destroy the foul beasts that lie yonder in that cave. Step aside."

"Toby, listen. This is important. It's about Sarah."

"Sarah?" The knight paused, testing the name in his mouth and tasting it's familiar sweetness. "Sarah!" Suddenly, Toby popped out of his dream ego and came fully to himself. The horse beneath him suddenly disappeared—along with his armor and sword—and he landed on his rump painfully. "Ow! I didn't think dreams could hurt that much," he exclaimed, rubbing his dream behind sheepishly.

He glanced wonderingly up at Jareth, who had walked closer to the boy once his knightly accoutrements disappeared. "Jareth, what are you doing here? I didn't know you could steal into people's dreams. Cool!"

"A newly acquired talent, I assure you," Jareth winked playfully, then allowed his face to grow serious. "Now listen, Toby. I don't have time for games. You need to help me get in contact with Sarah immediately."

"But why? Are you okay?" A light went on in Toby's eight-year-old brain. "Is that why Sarah was bleeding? Did something happen to you? What's wrong? Where are you? If Sarah's in trouble, why isn't she answering me when I call her?"

"Hold on now, Toby," Jareth held up one hand elegantly. Kneeling down, he looked Toby full in the face before continuing. "That's a lot of questions and I may not have time to answer them all completely, but I will try. First, I was kidnapped and banished to the Underworld. Ah!" He placed a finger on Toby's parted lips to forestall the questions threatening to leak from the boy's mouth. "Not now. Just listen. Sarah is still in the Underground, so far as I know, and I am trying to get back to her. Since I'm in the Underworld—the place of the dead—I can somehow travel to your dreams, but not to Sarah's. Don't ask me why, I can't explain. But what I need you to do is get in touch with Sarah to tell her that I'm alright, mostly." He smirked. "My host lacks much to be desired, but I can't help the company I keep at the moment.

"Wait. Did you say Sarah wouldn't answer you? And you saw her bleeding? Is she still hurt? Is she…" Jareth choked on the word. "Dead?"

"Oh no!" Toby cried, placing a comforting hand on the washed out shoulder of his now older brother. "I thought she was, too, for a while, because I saw her bleeding and unconscious and was too afraid to look into the crystal you gave me. But I looked again a few days ago and she was fine. Well, she looked fine. She was dressed like she was going camping, with a big pack and everything. I called out to her a number of times, but she didn't answer me. It was like she couldn't hear me. She looked really focused on something."

"Could you see what it was?" Jareth asked, his hands gripping the boy's shoulders tightly. So worried was he for his wife's welfare that he didn't realize he was squeezing Toby's dream body so strongly that the boy winced in pain. He loosened his grip on the boy and dropped his hands to his sides. "I'm sorry Toby. I don't mean to hurt you. I guess I'm just worried about Sarah."

"S'okay," Toby mumbled in reply, rubbing his shoulders painfully. "At least I won't feel it when I wake up." His eyes widened. "I hope I don't! But that's not important. Sarah is. I'm sorry Jareth, but I couldn't see what Sarah was looking at. I'm not really sure she was looking at anything she could really see, if you know what I mean. It was more that she was really focused on a goal, like she was on a quest of some kind." He shrugged. "I haven't been able to get her attention since then, but I'll keep trying."

"Please do, Toby," Jareth urged. "I have to let her know that I'm not dead, which she may think I am. And there are other things I have to explain to her, so don't ask questions, just listen. I'm here in the Underworld with Hermes, a former Olympian who serves as the guide to the dead…"

Jareth's words were becoming garbled, fading in and out of Toby's hearing like a scrambled television signal. It was being drowned out by an irritating combination of buzzing and beeping coming from somewhere nearby.

"Did you hear that, Jareth?" Toby asked; his own voice sound far away to his ears.

"Hear what?" Jareth asked.

"That beeping noise," Toby answered. "Don't you hear it? I think it's coming from over there."

Toby started in the direction of a pile of boulders a few feet away. Indignant, Jareth raced after him. "Toby! Toby, aren't you listening? This is important!"

Toby ducked behind the rocks to find a black box with blinking red numbers on it; this was the source of the blaring noise filling his head. "Hmmm. That's strange," he mumbled. And as he realized that it was his alarm clock, he smashed it on the rocks and ran back toward Jareth, calling out to him even as the rest of the dream world began to fade and crumble around his feet.

Jareth's washed out features pleaded for him to stay, his arms outstretched as if to yank Toby back into his dream. Their fingertips brushed for a moment; then, Toby's consciousness rushed toward wakefulness and he begrudgingly opened his eyes to see the flashing red numbers of his alarm clock winking at him from his nightstand: seven-fifteen, time to get up for school. He groaned, wishing with all his might that he could plunge back into his dream and finish speaking with Jareth. Angry and still sorting through Jareth's confusing explanations, Toby rushed through his morning and off to school so hurriedly, that he forgot to completely close the bottom drawer of his dresser. When the sun from the open window struck the dresser at a certain angle, tiny rainbows of color and light danced like liquid sunshine all over the dark blue walls of his room.

It was a sight that Toby's mother did not fail to notice as she walked by his room later that morning.

**

* * *

Uh oh! How is it that Moms always know where to find things the kids think are 'hidden'? Man! Thank you all for being so patient! Please R&R if you have the time and I will do my best to get another chapter out in the next few days. **


	13. Another Step Forward

**I'm so happy to get back to writing after a very long couple days. This week will likely not allow me much free time, since I have to work late a few days (which I'm NOT looking forward to). Thankfully, though, I will have a long Christmas break, so I hope to have the whole story done before New Years, if not Christmas. Enjoy!**

* * *

"How do I find them?" Sarah's voice rang with determination and a fierce protectiveness born of wifely indignation. "Chronus and Rhea, where are they? How will I reach them and how long will it take? Every moment I waste is another moment for Jareth to suffer needlessly."

Felicia turned kind eyes to her daughter-in-law. When she spoke, there was deep sympathy in her voice both for Sarah's current condition and for the unknown dangers lying in wait on the path she had chosen. "Truthfully, no one knows where they are. They disappeared from the Underground kingdoms many centuries ago, just after I was born."

"One day," Makarios continued matter-of-factly. "They simply walked out of the central palace and were never heard from nor seen again by anyone. There several rumors that they attempted to end their lives or to willingly descend to the Underworld, but I still can't believe they would do that."

"Why would they?" Sarah wondered incredulously. "From what you've told me, none of your kind would willingly go there. Why would they give up their powers and family to spend the rest of eternity in limbo?"

"Guilt and sorrow." Felicia explained, her pale blue eyes filled with sadness as she ducked her head reverently. "They were my great-grandparents." A single tear escaped from beneath her delicate lashes. "My father—their grandson—always spoke so fondly of them, but he never disguised the truth of their emotional struggles. Chronus was burdened with guilt over his part in the rebellion. Had he not feared his children instead of loving them, perhaps this would not have happened. Rhea as well carried a great weight of sorrow. She hated herself for not protecting her children better from their fear-crazed father, but she regretted even more that she had allowed her youngest son to rise up against his father so violently. She blamed herself for everything. When they were sent here, they above all others had the most difficult time adjusting to reconstruction and renewal. They were both trapped in the past for so long, many of their family believed they could no longer see the present. When my father was born, their hope and joy was renewed. But when he failed to meet their expectations and those of the court, some think they relapsed into a dark depression."

"What Felicia is saying is that they had ample reason to wish some form of purgatory on themselves—in their own minds, at least. However, I am a couple hundred years older than Felicia and saw for myself that the emotions that had so plagued their arrival in the Underground were greatly diminished. In fact, from my observations, I concluded that the couple had completely reversed their condition. Their faces radiated happiness, contentment and above all, hope. However, their presence kept the other families from moving on."

Beside him, Felicia shifted uncomfortably and her beautiful face now reflected annoyance rather than sadness and regret. Despite his wife's obvious discomfiture, Makarios did not halt the flow of his thoughts. Rather, he continued even more eagerly, pausing only to place a reassuring hand on Felicia's arm.

"Now Felicia I know you don't like my theory, but I think Sarah deserves to know every side of the issue before she leaves." He turned to face the Goblin Queen, compassion and ancient wisdom shining from his youthful face—so like Jareth's own face that it made Sarah's heart ache. "I have come to the conclusion that Chronus and Rhea left not out of guilt but out of love. Their presence among the royal was a blatant reminder of the past that prevented the younger generations from truly starting a new life. When Felicia's father failed to live up to the fervent expectations surrounding his birth, I think his grandparents realized that it was time to allow the Underground to become less a prison house and more like a home. They left because they loved their children and family so much that they could not allow them to remain stuck in disappointment, shattered dreams, and past glory. They were a living reminder of those things; their absence allowed a new order to be born, a new future. We have created not one, but many thriving kingdoms here; children are born in an atmosphere of stability and contentment rather than upheaval and disappointment.

Rhea had a tremendous gift of foresight. I believe she foresaw that their departure would open the avenue for a new world to be wrought in this dim wasteland." Makarios' eyes turned misty, his gaze fixed firmly on the unseen. "They're still here somewhere, possibly even walking among us disguised in some form or another. They are watching over us invisibly, taking care of their family and tasting the winds of time. Waiting. They wait in hope that one day, we will be free."

Makarios' voice was hushed and Sarah was transfixed by the awe and beauty his words evoked within her. She found his vision compelling, far more so than the wretched doom Felicia had pronounced upon her own ancestors. She wanted deeply to believe that Makarios was correct, to believe that Chronus and Rhea were still alive somewhere in the Underground and not simply for her own benefit. No, the vision Makarios evoked made her forget her own need of them and she found herself longing for their presence in a more visceral way. They were guardians and protectors, benign and benevolent beings looking out for the welfare of their family—a family she only now realized she desperately wanted to belong to.

Her thoughts brought her full circle to her original need; the only way she could become a part of their family was for her to receive immortality from them. Turning to Jareth's father, she was reminded again of the strong resemblance between their facial features. Seeing her beloved's face in her minds eye, she forgot the beautiful vision tantalizing her and instead begged of her father-in-law any information he might have concerning the whereabouts of the royal couple.

Makarios sat back in his chair, one hand stroking his chin reflectively while the other sat contemplatively on his lap. Felicia tucked a strand of wayward brown hair behind his ear, all her recent frustration with him forgotten.

"There are many possibilities, Sarah," he stated, his eyes never leaving their fixed position on the ceiling. "They could potentially be anywhere."

"But you do have a theory, Makarios," Felicia said warmly, affection and admiration for her husband's insight clearly manifest.

"Hmmm." He murmured, nodding his head absently. "Though I believe very strongly that they visit the Underground frequently, to check on us and 'help things along' every now and then. I believe they have a home together far from the Underground kingdoms."

"How far?" Sarah whispered, at once eager and daunted.

"Farther than far. I once heard a story from an eagle that beyond the edges of the Underground, on the very edge of the world, there is a small earthen hut with a thatched roof. It blends so well with its surroundings, the eagle could not be entirely certain it was there. Though he doubted his own keen eyesight, I believed him. That cottage on the end of the world is the home of our once King and Queen; I'm absolutely certain of it, so certain, that I encourage you to seek for it, Sarah. It is the only course I can offer you."

It was Sarah's turn to stare at the wall, pondering Makarios' intuitions and mulling over his instructions regarding her next course of action. She weighed the possibility of failure and misinformation against the hope of success. _I don't really have much of a choice at this point. I don't have any other options other than give up—which is what Hoggle would probably prefer—or wander aimlessly in search of people who can disguise themselves to look like anyone or anything. I have now heard from two sources that my only hope to rescue Jareth is to obtain immortality and the only possible way to accomplish such a thing is to find Chronus and Rhea. So far, the only clue as to their whereabouts is what Makarios just told me: the end of the world. That figures,_ she smiled sardonically. _I spend thirteen hours defeating a Labyrinth, which I thought was bad enough. Now I have to travel to the end of the world to get back what I never thought I wanted in the first place. But I was a child then and I didn't understand love. Though I would have balked then, I will not hesitate now. If traveling the world over is what it takes to save my Jareth. I will do it, twice over!_

"So," Sarah exhaled, looking her in-laws directly in the eye. "Where do I start?"

* * *

After a full night of sleep, Sarah awoke refreshed and ready. The next phase of her journey began today and she was eager to begin. The only reluctance she had stemmed from her disappointment at having to leave behind her friends. Makarios and Felicia had been adamant on that point; if she was to seek out Chronus and Rhea, she had to do it alone. This was _her_ quest and one that must be undertook in solitude. Even had they accompanied her, her friends would be no help to her; she alone must conquer the trials that awaited her because this would be proof of her love, loyalty and determination. _"If you must go, go alone, as Jareth has gone alone into the Underworld, so you must go alone to free him. No other alternative is possible."_ Those were Makarios' exact words and though they filled her with a small measure of fear, she quickly pushed it aside to be replaced with grief.

She had faced so many dangers in the Underground, but she had never been truly alone as she would be on this journey. Though she had been alone when captured by Junia, her torture had not lasted long enough, nor allowed her the freedom to reminisce upon her loneliness. In the days ahead, she would have ample time to dwell on her loneliness. More than ever she wanted the comfort and familiarity of Hoggle's stubbornness and cowardice—it stirred up her courage. She wished for Ludo's protective size and simple affection and hated to be deprived of Sir Didymus' chivalrous valor and headstrong courage. Had she been honest with herself, she believed her success in the Labyrinth was in large measure due to their influence and companionship; subconsciously, she knew she had not done it alone. Yet she was faced with a journey she could only undertake without them. She had to conquer the danger alone and unaided and in her secret heart, she feared she was not capable of victory.

So she dawdled in her morning preparations, unsure how to face her friends, knowing that she had to say goodbye and unable to assure them they would meet again. She scrubbed her face rigorously with the cold water provided her in a white basin, hoping the frigid temperature would clear her head. Looking at her face in the small mirror above the washbasin, she was surprised at what she saw. The remnants of her youthful bliss and ignorance were all but wiped from her face to be replaced with maturity and strength. Small lines of worry framed her jade-green eyes and the corners of her mouth held similar evidence of concern. The coals of protective, warrior's fire burned low in her eyes this morning, but she could see the potency of their power clearly in the throbbing embers. Their glow animated her face with zealous passion and she could hardly recognize the shield maiden she saw reflected back at her.

Turning away from the burning image, she dressed herself in the rough traveling garb Moira had provided her. Discarding the fine muslin gown from her own wardrobe, she donned a thick, white woolen shift to protect against the mountain cold over which she wore a dark blue traveling gown, also of wool. She slipped on a pair of think stockings and the black leather boots she had packed when she left Kyran's palace—it seemed so long since she had heard her friend's withdrawn but well-intentioned answers to her questions. She sighed, _I've come so far since then, but still have so far to go yet until I reach journey's end._

She twisted her long hair up into a knot at the nape of her neck and delicately placed the tiara Jareth had given her atop her travel-ready hair. She also wore her chain of office with it's golden amulet signifying her role as Queen of the Goblin Kingdom and Jareth's consort. No matter where she went, she would go as a Queen of the Underground not as a mere human woman. She picked up her wedding ring from where it sat on the edge of the washbasin and twisted the gold band around in her fingers. The delicate crystal sphere surrounded by diamonds glistened even in the darkness of the torch lit chamber she had slept in. Placing the golden band on her finger, she threw Jareth's black cloak over her shoulders, picked up her pack, and headed toward the main hall to eat breakfast and bid farewell to her friends.

When she arrived, her four traveling companions—Zimri, Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus—were already halfway through with their meal. Upon seeing her, Didymus immediately rose from his seat, bowed effusively, and apologized for not waiting for her. "My lady, please forgive our haste. We would not have begun eating had we known thou would soon join us. My good brother Ludo's belly rumbled so loudly we feared it would shake loose the stones. Please accept our apologies for filling our bellies before awaiting your presence." The fox bowed even more lowly and the little yellow feather atop his cap quivered with remorse.

"Ludo. Hungry!" The orange beast bellowed, a huge grin lit up his face as he shoveled another fistful of biscuit into his mouth clumsily.

Sarah laughed at her friend's unintended antics and patted Didymus affectionately on the head. "Don't worry Didymus. I'm not angry," her stomach rumbled as the smell of cooked meat and a hot beverage of some kind hit her nose. "But I am hungry!" She laughed, taking a seat by Hoggle who had paid no attention to the exchange because he was too intent on his breakfast. Sarah teased him about his focus and he blushed, barking defensively that, "A dwarf's got to eat if he's gonna go tramping around the Underground looking for a lost Goblin King."

Sarah didn't take his response seriously or personally. She knew Hoggle was bluffing because he didn't like to let on that he cared. Her eyes watered unexpectedly; she was going to miss him and his gruff affection. Before he could stop her, she leaned over and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. Hoggle blushed a deeper shade of crimson.

"What was that for?" He muttered through a hastily taken bite of biscuit.

"Just because I like you, Hoggle," Sarah beamed. "You're the best dwarf I've ever known, even if you are a bit crotchety. I'm so glad you're my friend."

Hoggle blushed again, mumbling something into his steaming mug that Sarah couldn't quite catch, but that didn't bother her. She could read the pleasure on Hoggle's ruddy face and knew he felt the same way about her—aside from the crotchety dwarf part.

* * *

When breakfast was over, her friends cornered her, agog with questions about her consultation with Jareth's parents the previous night and what it had meant for their travel plans. Zimri absented himself from the discussion, sensing that it did not concern him, for he was eager to return to his King's palace with the news of Sarah's safe arrival. However, he did not leave, but lingered on the far side of the great hall to hear further news of where the Goblin Queen and her friends would journey next. He knew Kyran and Alegra would be unhappy with him if he neglected to ascertain this information.

At the other end of the hall, Sarah sat in the midst of her long-time friends, preparing herself for the inevitable. At their request, Sarah explained her need to find immortality to rescue Jareth—a concept they accepted easily, making Sarah wonder anew at what kind of place she had committed her life and future to. She also told them Makarios' ideas regarding where Chronus and Rhea might be found. Unsurprisingly, Sir Didymus was eager to be off right that moment.

"Let us be off at once! Why do we dally here? Shall we not begin this next great adventure? Traveling to the end of the world to protect and serve his lady, surely a more noble quest has not been offered to any night ere now!" He bowed his head reverently and his tail twitched in anticipation. Ambrosius gave a bark of excitement, his tail swishing back and forth almost as feverishly as his master's.

Sarah hung her head reluctantly. She twisted her fingers in her lap restlessly and refused to look her friend's in the eye as she paused for a long moment. The tension in the air was thick and even Ambrosius could sense the sadness in the air so powerfully that he stilled his twitching tail and gave a low whine.

"My dear, _dear_ friends," Sarah began, her voice catching in her throat. "You can't come with me." She looked up from her lap and held each one in her gaze in turn. "This is something I have to do alone."

"Why?" Sir Didymus pleaded and with that one word, he communicated all the sadness and bitter disappointment of the entire group.

"Because…" Sarah hesitated, a memory from seven years ago intruding in on the present. "Because that's how it must be. That's the way it's done." She finished sadly.

"Well, if that's the way it's done," Hoggle replied.

"Then that's the way you must do it," Sir Didymus interrupted, completing Hoggle's unfinished thought. "But remember, my lady..."

"Should you need us," Hoggle continued. "For any reason at all."

"Sarah. Call." Ludo bellowed warmly, swinging his huge head up and down as if to emphasize the importance of those two small words.

"I promise. But I don't know if you can help me, even if I did." Sarah stated flatly, overcome by her friends' loyalty, but too saddened to admit her need.

"That don't matter," Hoggle asserted. "You call anyway and we'll come runnin'."

For a moment, Sarah was too overcome to speak. She looked at each of her dear friends with love overflowing from her green eyes onto her porcelain cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered huskily. "You don't know how much I was dreading saying goodbye. I thought you would be angry that I have to leave you behind."

"Angry?" Sir Didymous shouted, his tone and stance clearly denoting the utter absurdity of such a notion. "Why would thy companions be angry? Thou must face this great journey alone. We are sorrowful indeed at not having the chance to prove our courage and valor to thee by protecting thee on such a treacherous journey, but we have no anger. None at all!"

"Ludo miss Sarah," the orange creature moaned, placing a huge hand on Sarah's shoulder, the weight of which almost crushed her bench to the floor beneath her.

Hoggle shifted his feet nervously, his eyes and cheeks red. "Hoggle, are you crying?" Sarah moved closer to her friend while he rubbed his eyes fiercely with his large hands.

"No I aint!" he denied roughly, but he couldn't hide the tremor in his voice as one last drop spilled over his eyelids and down his bulbous nose.

"Oh, Hoggle!" Sarah wrapped her arms around him and squeezed tightly.

"I'm going to miss you, Sarah," Hoggle whispered so that only she could hear. "You're my best friend."

Sarah gave him an answering squeeze and when they pulled away from the embrace, she was beaming radiantly.

"So," Hoggle mumbled. "Where ya going?"

All heads turned in her direction eagerly and across the room, Zimri's ears pricked in her direction.

"I'm going to the end of the world," four pairs of eyes stared widely at her in disbelief. "But first," she amended. "I'm going to see the Sphinx."

* * *

In another part of the underground warren of rooms housing the runaway courtiers, Felicia and her husband were deep in conversation about their human daughter-in-law.

"I don't know why you sent her on this mission, Makarios," Felicia was saying. They were both lying in bed, but she was propped up on one elbow while he reclined on his back, gazing at the earthen ceiling above them with this brown hair splayed out on his pillow, almost Jareth-like in it's morning wildness.

"I didn't _send_ her, Felicia," Makarios retorted. "She _chose_ it, of her own free will. Don't you want Jareth to come back?" He rolled on his side to face her.

Felicia looked chagrined. "Of course I do, love," she whispered. "But I also don't want anything to happen to our new daughter, or our grandchild."

"What are you talking about?" Makarios questioned, confusion spreading over his handsome features.

"She's pregnant, Makarios."

"So soon?" He gasped. "How is that possible?"

"She's human, remember? Don't look so surprised. They were always more, ahem, fertile than we are." She sighed ruefully.

"Dear one," Makarios soothed, reaching out to tuck a few strands of her pale blonde hair behind her delicate ears. "Sarah is far stronger than we give her credit for. She challenged our son seven years ago, and won. She challenged the Court of the Wise four months ago, and won. She can take on the whole Underground, and win. I believe in her."

"But the child—"

Makarios placed a finger on Felicia's lips, "Our grandchild is in the safest of places. Besides, we could not dissuade her from her course. I could see that in her eyes. She is determined to rescue Jareth, no matter what cost to herself."

"I know," Felicia sighed. She moved closer to her husband, laying her head on his chest and placing herself within the protective circle of his strong arms. "I'm just afraid that I will never see any of them again."

"I know you are, dear one." Makarios whispered into her hair. "I have not the foresight your great-grandmother had, but I very much doubt that anything but death itself will keep Sarah from Jareth and perhaps, not even that."

**

* * *

Sarah's finally heading out! I'm sorry that her friend's won't be able to join her (I really am), but it didn't seem to fit with the dangers and trials she will have to face. It seems like this is really something she needs to do alone. Besides, she's a warrior queen on the rampage! There's no telling what she can do alone when she has that kind of power! Please review if you have time. I know this is a busy time of year. I hope to be back very soon!**


	14. Three Hour Tour

**SO, I've had a cold all week, so my brain is a bit fuzzy. Maybe that's why this chapter is a bit more drawn out than I intended. Oh well, it is what it is. More for you to read and more for me to write later! Enjoy!**

* * *

Jareth lay in a pool of his own sweat. The Underworld wasn't exceptionally hot—definitely _not_ the fire and brimstone of the Abovegrounders' imagination—but it was humid and he had expended a great deal of energy when he crept into Toby's dream uninvited. Even apart from the uncomfortable temperature, the uneven ground beneath him was digging into his back and legs painfully. In one hand, the fine grey dust of a rock unfortunate enough to be within inches of his fist when he awoke was slowly trickling out from between his closed fingers.

"Pleasant dreams?" Hermes' jaunty voice called out from somewhere to Jareth's left. He refused to open his eyes or give any other indication that he'd heard the youth. He was still frustrated that Toby had departed from his dream so suddenly and though he was well aware that the boy could not have done anything else, Jareth could not suppress his disappointment or the anger it fostered. _Why didn't he just listen to me for those last few minutes? So much time wasted and I don't know when I'll be able to get back into his dreams. I hope he remembers to contact Sarah otherwise my plan is doomed. _

He heard footsteps approaching and when they got within a few inches of his head, Jareth's free hand shot out from his side like lightning to catch hold of Hermes' ankle. He opened his eyes to see the youth's mischievous face looming over him, a wry grin plastered to his pale, boyish face.

"I have to give you credit Jareth. You have very swift reflexes."

Jareth merely grunted in response, irritated at the interruption to his thoughts and very much desirous of new company. Releasing the remainder of the grey dust from his right hand and Hermes' ankle from the other, Jareth raised himself to a seated position to clear his head from the last traces of Toby's dream world. Standing up, he brushed himself off, cracked his neck to release the tension stored up in the knotted muscles and ran an elegant hand through his wild mane of blonde hair.

Hermes eyed the pile of grey dust on the ground where Jareth had previously lain. "Whatever did that rock do to you, former Goblin King?"

"It was annoying me with bothersome questions," Jareth retorted, raising one eyebrow significantly in Hermes' direction.

Hermes laughed. "Oh come now, Jareth. You can do better than that. You may find me a nuisance, but if you want to get out of here, you'll need to stay by my side whether you like it or not. I rather think you feel the latter," Hermes cocked his head to one side, mock-injury in his black velvet eyes, "but I really don't care." He spread his teeth wide in a feral grin. "I'm still the guide of the Underworld and so far, I've failed to do more than allow you to needlessly work yourself up into a sweat. No longer! You're still new here and I will show you around like a good Underworld guide should. Come, former Goblin King. There is much to see."

Though a tour of the horrid place was the furthest thing from Jareth's mind at the moment, Hermes would not be gainsaid. Jareth felt particularly uncomfortable with Hermes' morbid delight at the prospect of showing him around the Underworld. _He's like a junk lady in one of her holes—he can't stop showing off his horrid little keepsakes._

Jareth's intuitions were very nearly close to the truth, for as Hermes led him from where they had spent the last day—as much as it could be called a day in hell, where time does not exist and the dim smudge of sky never varied in color—Hermes pointed out the various heroes and famous peoples from the Aboveground as if they were trophies. Bypassing many of the more recent 'acquisitions' as he called them, Hermes went straight to those from—in his words—'the good old days.'

"Over here, we have Heracles. Have you heard of him? He was one of Zeus' many sons, back in the glory days. He spent many years of his life trying to win Hera's—she's Zeus' wife—favor so that she would give him immortality," Hermes chuckled softly, but the object of his amusement—a heavily muscled man wearing a lion's skin cloak—did not appear to appreciate the guide's private joke at his expense. He cast a threatening look in the guide's direction and crushed a nearby boulder with his fist significantly. Hermes shivered, but it soon turned into a shudder of laughter.

"He amuses you, does he?" Jareth quipped. He folded his arms across his chest arrogantly, more annoyed than ever at his host.

"Of course he does, Jareth. Don't you understand? He wanted nothing more than eternal life and how he has it, only to be trapped forever in the Underworld: precisely what he was trying to avoid! It's deliciously ironic! He even gets to see his wife and children again, yet the prospect gives him little pleasure." Hermes nodded in the unfortunate man's direction, indicating the four shades hovering behind his hulking figure, their translucent fingers twitching at him greedily. "He murdered them in his human lifetime, and now they're hungry for the life he attained through contrition and slave labor. I'm surprised at you Jareth; why aren't you amused?"

"It appears you know less about me than you thought, _Hermes_." Jareth uttered his name like a curse. "Superficially we may retain the same rather rough and roguish sense of mischief, but deeper than that, our similarity ends. You know nothing of me but seek rather to imprint your own character on my countenance. I find it both irritating and ill-advised. Unlike you, I actually have some hope of getting out of this prison and if I do—"

"You'll what? Mock my miserable confinement? That makes you no different than I." Hermes retorted, his temper rising with Jareth's censure.

"No, Hermes. I would forget," Jareth sighed wearily, turning away from the alarming sight of Heracles and his soul-sucking family. He wanted badly to erase the picture from his mind; it terrified him. "I would forget all about you, your contemptuous, heartless disregard for everything but yourself, and this whole rotten landscape!"

"That would be inadvisable, Jareth," Hermes whispered, his voice laden with sorrow. "Unless, of course"—Hermes sorrow turned cynical—"you want to watch your wife and family die like he did."

Jareth's mismatched eyes turned icy, narrowing with a smoldering hatred and other dark emotions already well past annoyance. "Are you threatening my family?" He hissed through clenched teeth.

Hermes eyes widened in assumed innocence, "Of course not Jareth, why would I wish to harm them? But like I said earlier, if I didn't save you, all our worlds are doomed."

"And what bearing does that have on my memory? And if our worlds really are doomed, shouldn't you be answering my questions instead of speaking in circles all the time? For a guide you certainly never get anywhere important," Jareth flicked his gaze away from the curly-haired youth, so lost in his own thoughts that his awareness barely registered the ashen faces of immortals interspersed amid the multitudes of translucent figures dotting the landscape.

Behind his back, Hermes hung his head in shame. Though he would never have admitted it to the Goblin King's face, Jareth's words had stung the youthful immortal. Guiding the dead into an easy adjustment in the Underworld was the last vestige of his former power; that he had failed so utterly in assisting the Goblin King at all wounded his already half-dead pride. It had been so long since another immortal had arrived in the Underworld—especially one so like himself, if only superficially—that when faced with the task of bringing Jareth to full understanding of his predicament and his purpose, Hermes had completely lost his poise and charm. His carefully laid plans were already beginning to unravel at his fingertips.

He kicked absently at a rock, his hands placed self-consciously behind his back and looking very much like a little boy pouting because his mother caught him doing something especially naughty. He heard Jareth shift his feet, suddenly breaking shame's iron hold over him. He looked up at the careworn face of his would-be guest and felt sorry for him. _He really doesn't know how necessary he is, does he? Nor does he understand just how important it is that his wife finds a way to free him. He sees only the immediate consequence of being separated from the woman he loves. How would he react if he knew the far-ranging penalty his permanent imprisonment would wreak? Maybe I've been going at this the wrong way. I'm not certain that I can explain it to him or, rather, I'm not sure he would listen to me if I did…but maybe, just maybe…he might listen to Apollo. _

His mind thus made up, Hermes plastered a roguish grin onto his boyish face and called out to his brooding companion. "So, were you really able to break the curse and travel to the Aboveground? Or is that just a fable you tell to give your friends a reason to be afraid of you?"

Jareth ground his teeth, refusing to allow the little imp to rile him unnecessarily. _When did I become so sensitive to bothersome questions and annoying interruptions? I'm better than this. I could endure the arrogance and selfishness of a teenage human girl, so I can endure the capricious gimmicks of a ten-thousand year old immortal. After all, he can't be worse than a kingdom full of goblins! _He smirked then and all his old confident charm and mocking arrogance came flooding back into his system like nicotine to a chain-smoker. It made him giddy and euphoric; he felt powerful for the first time since Danic had invaded his home and taken him forcibly away from his wife while beating her in the process. He raised his eyebrows wickedly, _I'm back. _

Aware that it had been a full two minutes since Hermes had addressed him, Jareth turned gracefully and flashed the youth a condescending smile. "I'm sorry, were you speaking to me? I must have failed to hear you correctly."

For one brief second, a befuddled expression crossed Hermes' ashen face, but it was gone so quickly only a keen observer like Jareth would have noticed it—which he did and he grinned inwardly in triumph. Hermes, however, shouldered on confidently, "I asked if the stories about your trips to the Aboveground were true or merely myths created to fascinate the titan children."

"Oh, they're true," Jareth replied, unfazed by Hermes not-so-subtle mockery. "My wife is an Abovegrounder, a human actually, but my visits to the Aboveground began long before I ever met her. The first time I went, I was _only_ a century and a half old." Jareth pitched his voice significantly to stress his age, "You understand Hermes? Or do I have to explain that to you?"

"I understand, Jareth," Hermes face enflamed with anger, but his voice remained calm. "I know very well that one hundred and fifty years old is not 'of age' in your society. Your inference is clear: if you were able to reach that amount of power before you came of age, your power afterward must be great indeed. I already told you, I've been watching you. We all have, in one way or another."

"I'm glad you understand that much at least. Perhaps now you won't treat me so flippantly, especially if you're telling the truth about how important I am." Jareth saw Hermes flush more deeply and ignored it. "You see, Hermes? I listen much better than you think."

"Good. Because I hate repeating myself."

Jareth picked up an ovoid stone from the ground and rolled it back and forth between his hands. His fingers itched for one of his crystals, but without his magic, he was forced to choose an alternative method for keeping his hands occupied. "So why do you want to know about my trips to the Aboveground? How do they have bearing on my current predicament?"

"At the very least, they're evidence that your magic is capable of transgressing seemingly unbreakable curses and impassible boundaries—which, as I mentioned earlier, is another trait that we share," Hermes preened. "However, your ability is more important than mine at this point. I've all but lost my power to age and decrepitude, but you. You Jareth have a most interesting skill."

"So you've mentioned. Would you mind telling me what is so interesting about it?"

"I am not the person to tell you, Jareth. I haven't the…ah…skill in speaking or understanding that some do, and you might not listen to me if I told you."" Jareth snorted contemptuously, confirming Hermes' suspicions. "But there is someone here who does. He will know better than I how to explain, he is—or was—the god of wisdom: the great Phoebus Apollo."

"If you can't help and he can, why are you still talking to me, Hermes? I've noticed you have a tendency to let your mouth run away with you," Jareth smirked.

"You're the only interesting person I've had to speak to in over four thousand years, Jareth. You should be flattered. I know you can think fast, but let's see how that compares with how you run." Hermes gave one final mischievous wink; then, he bounded away over a nearby boulder, leaving Jareth to choke on the acrid dust his footfalls churned up.

* * *

For what seemed like hours to Jareth, the two ran over the unending grey wasteland of Erebus' (the Underworld's) central plain. Here and there, jagged mountain peaks and putrid pools of sludge more foul than the Bog of Eternal Stench interrupted the harsh landscape. Jareth's ears buzzed with the incessant wailing of bleak and miserable souls; the haunted air clung to him like a second skin; he could feel the black ooze of despair seeping into his pores and only the rush of fetid air on his face reminded him that he was still moving, still pressing onward toward the goal of Apollo's house.

His eyelids inched ever more slowly toward each other—an inevitable kiss of death. He forced them apart, riveting his eyes on the winged soles of Hermes' sandaled feet flying over the dusty plains. Ahead of them, their destination loomed large: a mountain peak they had been chasing for the last few hours now lay within only another half hour's travel. Were the rushing wind not stealing the breath from his lungs, Jareth would have heaved a heavy sigh of relief. He'd never run so tirelessly in his four thousand years of existence.

Once at the foot of the mountain, Jareth quickly realized that his athletic feats were not at an end. The cave he supposed to be their final destination sat a few thousand feet up the mountainside with no visible trail leading upward. _I suppose he expects me to fly_, Jareth grimaced as another biting thrust of wind tore the air straight from his lungs. _But he's the one with the wings all over his clothing, not I. The little…_Jareth cut his thoughts loose, preferring not to waste his acerbic wit on so meaningless a target. He would soon be out of this hellhole—he hoped.

Jareth was only half-right in his assessment of the means Hermes intended to use to scale the mountainside, but the truth hid from his usually perceptive insight. No magic stairway or hidden trail materialized to ease the ascent—as he half hoped one would—but Hermes was undaunted and he beamed complacently as Jareth ceased his run. At first glance, flight seemed the only viable option for scaling the jagged surface, unless Hermes was hiding something, an unpleasantly possible possibility.

"Just how are we to get to Apollo, Hermes? Aren't you forgetting that I don't have little wings on my shoes?" Jareth taunted. "Or am I expected to hold onto your coattails while you carry us upward? I'm not sure your wilted feathers will hold both our weights."

Hermes stuck his tongue out in a surprisingly childish and unexpected gesture. "No, castaway, I expect you to use those grey-clad legs of yours and jump. Honestly," the youth shook his head, sending his golden curls bobbing in the fetid breeze, "how you even manage to _run_ in those skin-tight breeches of yours is beyond me."

"Years of practice," Jareth smirked, eying Hermes' toga with some amusement. "I don't know how you manage to live so…exposed. You must be thankful the weather is so temperate; if it were colder, you might lose something you wouldn't want to live without."

Hermes ignored the gibe at his apparel and manhood and turned to face the mountain. Crouching slightly, he sprung upward to land expertly on a ledge a few dozen feet above Jareth's blonde head. Without pausing, he crouched and sprang upward a second time, reaching a second ledge of a similar height above the first. He leered haughtily at Jareth from his height and crouched to spring again, not waiting for the Goblin King to follow.

Refusing to be out bested by the vain, golden haired guide, Jareth forgot his aching legs and prepared to vault himself upward to the first ledge, but something deep in his consciousness gave him pause. He recalled his earlier prediction of Hermes expecting him to fly. _No. I couldn't, could I? Is it possible that could work down here? It isn't really magic, not technically. I suppose it couldn't hurt to try and I would dearly love to outmaneuver the little brat_.

"Scared of heights, Jareth?" Hermes taunted from four ledges up. The guide was clearly delighted at the superiority his position brought him.

Jareth merely shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, choosing to allow Hermes a moment of enjoyment while he had the chance. Then, he looked inward, drew up the form he wanted his body to assume—the familiar form of a barn owl—and gently conformed his body to the mental image. It worked.

With a loud hoot of ecstasy and delight, Jareth flew upward past the shocked face of Hermes on the cliff face—he couldn't resist a sweeping dive in his direction, just to see the look of sheer fright on the boy's pale face—and upward to Apollo's cave. He alighted smoothly and regretfully. Returning to his human form always brought a tiny spark of sadness, though now the small spark felt more like a blazing bonfire. With nothing else to enjoy, Jareth begrudged the return to full stature almost as much as he had his awakening in hell.

He tapped his foot impatiently for the few minutes it took for Hermes to scale the final ledges of his goat-like ascent.

"How the _hell—_" Hermes wheezed.

Jareth waved a hand airily. "Please, don't we have more important things to talk about? Clearly this is a skill unconnected to my 'special' magical powers, so there is no need for you to know any more about it."

"But—"

"I know. You're dying to understand, right? But you know what the Abovegrounders say about curiosity." Jareth grinned wickedly, his graceful, leonine form lounging languidly against a boulder. He looked like nothing more or less than a panther sunning itself before the hunt and Hermes did not miss the calculatedly feline pose. For the first time, Jareth saw fear in the other man's pale face.

"I believe you're beginning to understand, and fear me, Hermes. You should. You may have been powerful once, but your glorious reign ended before I was even born. You'd do well to recall that relatively minor fact. I may be without my magic, but I am not harmless, even here. I have skills beyond a sole reliance upon magic and I am no mere puppet you can twist to your own ends." Hermes' face went blank and his eyes shifted uncomfortably under Jareth's careful scrutiny.

"I see I've struck a bit too closely to the heart, have I? You thought to use me, didn't you Hermes? You thought that you could somehow win me by claiming kinship and affinity with me. 'We're two peas in a pod,' Ha!" Jareth scoffed. "You hoped that I would have retained a small measure of my abilities when I arrived and when I didn't you hoped to befriend me so that when I escaped, I would free you. You probably even sent those shades after me while I was unconscious to see whether or not I would be able to fight them off with any residual magic. When I couldn't you decided to 'rescue' me hoping to thereby win my trust. Isn't that right?"

Hermes conveniently found a piece of shale to captivate his attention.

"I'm right, aren't I? _Aren't I, Hermes?_" Jareth forced the other immortal to look him in the eyes and the other's blank stare was all the confirmation he needed. "Your plan has failed, Hermes. Now, let's get this over with, or is Apollo just another one of your ruses to get me to save you from the purgatory you deserve?"

"I am no ploy of Hermes, Jareth, and I resent the conclusion on your part. However, I will forgive your egregious error in assumption, for you know little of our ways or of our history."

The voice came from over Jareth's shoulder and he whirled to face the unseen intruder. From the mouth of the cave behind him, an ageless man was approaching slowly on foot. His hair glinted like burnished bronze in sunlight and his honey-colored eyes blazed like the noonday sun. His face was lightly tanned, but Jareth could see that the color was only a vestige of former glory. Though simply attired, the man's clothing bore none of the tattered and careworn signs of age as Hermes' did: the simple blue tunic, belted with leather at the waist hung in clean lines from the man's athletic frame.

"Apollo," Jareth asserted, not allowing his uneasiness to manifest in his voice.

The other man inclined his head gracefully. "Welcome, Jareth of the Underground, former Goblin King and husband of Sarah Williams, human from the Aboveground. I have been expecting you. Please, come in." He swept one arm grandly to the side, indicating the dwelling behind him.

Without hesitation, Jareth followed. Unlike his guide, Jareth felt an instinctive trust for the bronze man; after the first few seconds of discomfiture, he felt at ease. One look in the man's eyes had erased his suspicions, for Apollo's eyes were deceptively old for his youthful face, as if therein one might guess his true age not in years but in experience and wisdom.

_One thing is certain,_ Jareth mused._ Once I step foot in his cave, there will be no going back. That much, I can sense. I only hope that Sarah is waiting for me on the other side; my chest feels strangely hollow without her._

**

* * *

I meant to add more to this chapter, but I'll save it for later. I hope this is setting the wheels of your brains spinning! Haha, I'm keeping you all in suspense. Wheehehehe, fun for me ;) Wow, I'm tired and sick and I need to sleep. Leave a review if you get a chance, don't forget that I personally thank all of you who leave reviews when I finish my story. They mean that much to me!**


	15. Sphinxed

**Time to get back to Sarah again. Enjoy!**

* * *

"_How do I find the Sphinx?" Sarah queried; she was immune by now to the sheer incredulity her question would have raised in any other place than the land where everything seems possible. Nor did her conversation partner find the query strange. Instead of answering, her father-in-law deferred to his wife. _

"_You will take the tunnel leading to the east—that is, leading away from the back of this mountain, Moira will show you the correct one when you leave. There will be only one trail to take and you must follow it upward into the forested peaks of the second range of mountains. Right now, we are in the first range, the Sentinels. You must pass beyond them to the second: the Treeline we call them, for they are densely populated with trees. Once in the Treeline, you must stick very closely to the trail, for it is easy to get lost. If you maintain a steady pace, by the evening of your third day out you will reach a fork. Take the left-hand trail and follow it until you come to the Golden Meadow."_

"_How will I know when I reach the meadow? Is there some sign you can tell me that I can use to identify it?" Sarah was trying desperately to retain the information Felicia was offering her. She didn't want to get lost or make a wrong turn. Jareth's life depended on her reaching each of her destinations swiftly._

"_You'll know it when you see it," Felicia smiled sympathetically. "Relax, Sarah. You have the courage, physical strength, and intelligence to face every obstacle. Above all, you have the determination. I see the fire in your eyes; it grows with every passing moment. As long as you keep the fire burning, you will not fail."_

_Confusion gave way to dawning comprehension and Sarah promised herself to hold tightly to the passion burning inside her. "I won't fail, Felicia, Makarios." She turned to each of Jareth's parents in turn. "I will bring him back. I promise."_

"_We understand," Makarios replied, compassion softening his placid features. "Don't lose hope and never let weariness overcome your resolve."_

_Don't lose hope. I will bring him back. Relax. I won't fail. I promise._

_Promises—so many promises and instructions. So much to remember, no room to forget. _Sarah let her memories of the past few days flow over her like water. She refused to forget anything; memories fueled her inner fire and any lost memory was wasted tinder.

* * *

The past two days travel had been uneventful. Like Felicia had said, there had been only one path to follow, which made her journey simpler but threatened to lull her into a false sense of security. _There is no margin for error; I can't waste any time. I must find the Sphinx, but first, I have to look out for trial division Felicia warned me about._

She felt a small nudge of encouragement from her abdomen and she placed her hands over the imperceptible bulge beneath her dress. She felt the life pulsing beneath her and the thought of her child gave her fresh determination. Blinking back tears, she trudged ahead vigorously. _Tears? Why am I crying? I sure hope that I'm not one of those women who become an emotional wreck when she's pregnant. Mom was like that with me, or so Dad tells me. Dammit, I can't let that happen to me! I swear to whatever gods govern the Underground that I will _not_ be that woman. _Her stomach growled. _I could really go for some McDonald's French fries right about now… what am I thinking? Sheesh, the last thing I need right now is unnatural cravings. _She stuffed her hand into her pack and fished out a travel cake Moira had packed for her. _It'll just have to do._

She reached the fork by noon of that day—her third—a half-day sooner than Felicia had expected. She wisely chose not to allow the early success to cloud her judgment, but she was more sharply on the alert than she had been that morning. She was looking for the surnamed "Golden Meadow" that Felicia had been so confident she would recognize without help, but Sarah knew better than to expect all to be as it seemed. She had learned that much since the events that had so haunted her nightmares for the last seven years. "Don't take anything for granted," sung through her brain like a mantra.

The trail ahead of her snaked unseen through the crowded trees and encroaching undergrowth. Splashes of crimson and gold from the foliage appeared everywhere she looked. The forest blazed with non-existent fire and the bright hues hurt her eyes. Very little of the sunlight could directly penetrate the thick, intertwining branches of the trees, but what light did reach through was refracted several times over from each leafy flame to the next so that while she never saw the sun itself, the forest was as bright as if she stood bathed in full sunlight. Even so she had trouble following the trail, for when she looked at the earth, beneath her feet and ahead of her the fiery leaves carpeted the ground so that the trail was all but obscured by them. Black and purple bushes dotted the edges of the trail providing some visual relief to the burning hues of the trees. Nevertheless, in the end the violet and sable brush only made the leaves of the towering trees seem that much brighter for the dark voids interspersed between them.

Amidst her hike, Sarah wondered how she would distinguish any one meadow from another with all the gold reflecting the sunlight around her, but she trudged wearily onward in the heat of the afternoon sun. The fiery brightness of the foliage magnified the stifling atmosphere of the dense forest and oppressed her to the point where she felt herself sweating even in the cool air of the mountain passes. She drank thirstily from her water flask till it was empty and still her parched throat ached for more. Bereft of her water and now craving salty foods more strongly than before, Sarah forced herself to stay alert for any possible water source, hoping to find a stream or brook to refill her depleted supply before the day wore into night.

She rounded another dense patch of raven-winged scrub and immediately shielded her eyes. If she had been walking in a bonfire, she now stood blinded by the sun. She cracked open both eyes and immediately wished she hadn't, for the radiance seared her optic nerves. _If I wasn't blind before, I think I might have just accomplished it. What's more, I think I've found the "Golden Meadow." Felicia was right; there is no way I could have missed this place. But what am I supposed to do now? Is this where the Sphinx lives? If so, should I call out to let it know I'm here? Or am I supposed to wait in deferential silence?_

Torn between crying out and remaining silent, she felt soft pressure against her shins, as if something were brushing up against her. She daren't open her eyes to check what it was, so she resolved to gain information through touch. The pressure ceased after a brief second, followed by a slight whisper of a touch to the side of her knee. A pause. Then, something butted against her shin a second time, something small, round, _a head_? It was followed again by the prolonged pressure of something rubbing against her calf and shin and the whispered kiss against the side of her knee. It felt very much like her roommates pet cat trying to get her attention. As if in answer to her thought, she felt a soft vibration against her legs as the pressure returned. _Purring? That's what it sounds like, but…a cat? What would a cat be doing out her in the middle of nowhere? Do they even _have_ cats in the Underground? Come to think of it, I've never seen one here before. _

She felt the creature—she refused to admit it was a cat and not just her imagination, and the damage from the blazing forest, playing tricks on her—she felt it tug slightly on her skirt, as if trying to gain her attention.

"I can't see you, whoever you are," she explained to the unknown creature. "It's too bright for me to open my eyes." _Oh great, I'm talking to a cat. Or something. It's probably not _even_ a cat I'm talking to; that would make me far too normal and nothing is ever normal here. _

The creature seemed to understand, for it let go of her skirt immediately. Sarah could hear it moving, and the thought of losing the only other living creature around filled her with dread. "Don't go!" She cried, afraid it was abandoning her. In reply, the creature brushed against her as it returned to the back of her knees. She felt its head butt up against her right leg insistently, pushing so hard she almost fell over. She caught herself in time to avoid a fall, her right leg now extended in front of her. The creature moved to pushing on her left leg and she stepped forward with it to avoid falling over. The pressure returned to her right leg. _Is it trying to tell me to walk?_

"I get the idea, you want me to walk somewhere, right?" _Hopefully somewhere less bright so that I can actually see what I'm talking to_, she muttered under her breath. The purr increased in volume, which she interpreted as assent.

So it was that Sarah crossed the blinding meadow with her eyes tightly shut against the searing light. She moved in what she supposed was toward a shelter of some kind and whenever she strayed from her intended goal, the creature would pull on her skirt or rub against her to correct her course. After what felt like hours but was, in reality, only twenty minutes, she saw the light behind her eyelids change from gold to soft brown. She opened one eye to a slit experimentally. She was safe. She had passed to the other side of the "Golden Meadow" and was now safely ensconced within a welcoming glade ringed with trees whose leaves were a more subdued shade of rust and brown. She sighed with relief and dropped unceremoniously onto the soft turf beneath her feet to rest her body.

"No time for rest now, Sarah Williams," a voice called out. "You have come far today, but you still have far to go." Startled, Sarah looked round anxiously for the source of the unfamiliar voice. It was low, sweet and not without a melodious quality befitting a woodland spirit or sylph; moreover, she could also detect a slight hiss, as if the speaker had trouble forming an 's' with her mouth. (She also assumed the speaker was female based on the vocal tone. She couldn't imagine a male with that musical a voice.) However, no matter which direction she turned, she could not locate the speaker. There was absolutely no one in the glade but herself and the cat sitting a few feet away.

_The cat._ Her brain finally registered the feline shape nearby. Indeed, not more than three feet away, a petite cat no larger than an average house cat with leopard coloring and a long, graceful tail sat with its head tilted to one side. It was eyeing her curiously. _So I my first assumption was right; that must be the creature that led me across the meadow. Strange._

As she stared, the cat opened her delicate mouth in a yawn, but instead of a yawn, the melodious voice Sarah had not been able to locate issued forth from the cat's mouth, "Sarah Williams, have you come this far to seek me only to stare rudely at the object of your search?"

"P-p-pardon me?" Sarah managed to stutter.

"I presume to came to find me. No one travels this far into the Treeline merely for pleasure," the cat replied with a soft, distinctly feline chirp of amusement.

_Is it—she laughing at me? But—oh!_ Sarah's eyes widened with recognition. "You must be the Sphinx." She said, a slight note of disappointment creeping into her otherwise polite tone.

"Expecting something else, Goblin Queen? I fear your life in the Aboveground has filled your head with visions of monsters. Did you think to find a lion with wings, a woman's face and a serpent-headed tail?" Sarah detected a hint of a smile on the cat's face as her own flushed with embarrassment.

"Pure exaggeration, I assure you," the cat purred, a predatory grin lighting up her elfin features. "It wouldn't make quite so grand a tale to be out-riddled by a cat now would it? Humans are always making embellishments to things they don't quite understand."

Sarah squirmed uncomfortably at the Sphinx's insult and seeing it, the creature immediately bowed her head. "Ah, forgive me, present company excluded of course. You are much more sensible and accepting of fantastic things aren't you, Sarah? It would explain how someone from the Aboveground could not only defeat Jareth's Labyrinth but also assent to be his Queen. You are a puzzle, Sarah Williams—the only human Queen to ever reign in the Underground yet you would risk not only your own life but also the life of your unborn child to save your consort, an immortal.

Oh, and don't bother asking me how I know all about you. I'm the Sphinx, I just know." The cat winked knowingly as her tail twitched first one way then another. When Sarah did not respond, the Sphinx set about meticulously cleaning her front paws one by one.

Sarah's mind was inconveniently blank. Words blew like dust upon the wind and nymph-like, her thoughts eluded her fervent grasp as Daphne had Apollo. No matter how quickly or cunningly she chased them, Sarah could not bring her thoughts to form coherent sentences. She felt both foolish and tired. Her stomach rumbled again but she didn't even hear it. Finished with her ablutions, the cat coughed lightly and blinked at Sarah expectantly.

"Don't you have anything to ask from me? Or do you just have a fondness for cats?" The Sphinx asked, with a pronounced, and involuntary, hiss on the final syllable.

Sarah's mental arm gave a final stretch toward coherence. Embarrassed bewilderment followed quickly on the heels of success. "Ah, no. I'm sorry," Sarah fumbled. "I couldn't think of what to say, actually."

"I suppose that's better than complaining about things not being fair," the cat replied with a grin.

Sarah shrugged. "I'm no longer a teenager."

"I can see that."

"How do I find Chronus and Rhea?" Sarah blurted, suddenly recalling the purpose of her journey through the Treeline. She recovered quickly enough to expand a more polite explanation to her inquiry. "Felicia and Makarios urged me to seek you out in order that you could tell me where I need to go and what is required of me on my quest to free Jareth."

"They did well to send you to me," the Sphinx nodded her tawny head sagely. "Though the lore may have mistaken my appearance, they did rightly appoint me as guardian of holy places and of great knowledge. I am the doorway to the sacred and your quest takes you to the very gateway of life and death itself, the most holy of places."

"Will you help me, then?" Sarah asked, lifting her jade green eyes to meet the warm brown ones of her feline companion. The fire within her breast flamed to life and the air around her seemed to stir energetically in response.

From three feet away, the Sphinx no longer saw a youthful human woman bathed in the soft glow of early maternity; rather, she gazed now upon a shield-maiden prepared for battle. This was Sarah as she should be, not the gaping human floundering for words but a warrior Queen fighting for her mate. _Ah, Sarah,_ the Sphinx smiled inwardly._ You make a fine wife for Jareth; I can think of no woman more worthy to bear both the title and child that you wear so effortlessly. If any soul can attain immortality, you can._

"I shall do what I can, Sarah Williams, but you must listen closely: the journey you have undertaken for your own sake and the sake of your child is fraught with peril. You seek immortality and you must offer in its stead, your own mortality. To do this, you must obtain three objects that will allow you to trade your humanity for eternal life; these three objects must be obtained from three sisters: Nona, Decima and Morta—the three weird sisters once known in your world as the Fates. From Nona, the first (though youngest) of the three, you must acquire her distaff. From the second, Decima, you must obtain the your life-thread and from Morta, the eldest and most fearsome of all, you must procure her shears. I warn you, obtaining any of these three objects will be difficult and you must be willing to offer something of yourself in return. The Fates do not give to mortals freely.

I must also warn you that the path to the end of the world is guarded by four barriers that you must cross if you are to find Chronus and Rhea. There is one each of earth, air, fire and water, representing the four fundamental elements of the world. You will find each of the three sisters at the end of the first three barriers and if you succeed in overcoming the fourth, you will find what you seek."

"Three sisters, four barriers and I must obtain a distaff, a thread and a pair of shears," Sarah repeated aloud. "I won't forget." She faced the Sphinx once more, her mien humble and words, gracious. "Thank you so much for your help; Felicia and Makarios were very wise to send me to you, even if I did take your appearance for granted and thus overlooked your remarkably dainty form."

The Sphinx nodded as if to say she was forgiven for her oversight but before Sarah could bid farewell, the cat spoke again, "I must give you one final warning. You must accomplish your task swiftly. The journey is long, but you must have greater speed still thought not for Jareth's sake. You must think of your unborn child and seek to attain your goal before your term is complete. You have eight months, Goblin Queen. You must hurry; only you can save them."

Thus dismissed, Sarah stood but was uncertain which direction would lead her aright.

"I think you'll find the correct path to the first barrier lies in that direction," the cat asserted, flicking her tail to Sarah's left to indicate a trail barely visible through the underbrush.

"Thank you," Sarah sighed. "For everything. I cannot thank you enough for your help and wisdom." Overcome with the urge to say thank you in a more meaningful way, Sarah could think only of Thor—her former roommate's cat—so she did what any cat-lover would and took a few steps, crouched, and placed a loving scratch on the Sphinx's head between her ears. An answering purr and the look of pleasure on the Sphinx's face told Sarah that she had not been untoward in her friendliness.

Behind her, the sun was slowly sinking to the horizon. She dare not stay any longer, so she rose and sought the path indicated by the now drowsy Sphinx.

When Sarah had disappeared through the bushes fringing the glade, the Sphinx opened one eye lazily and mewed softly. "You may not have cause to thank me later, Sarah and you may one day regret you ever laid your pretty green eyes on me. One thing is certain, however, you have surely not seen the last of me." And with one bounding leap and a flick of her long tail, the Sphinx disappeared back into the Golden Meadow, lost again in the blinding light.

**

* * *

If you hate cats, I'm very sorry for you, but you don't know real animal love till you see the way a cat's eyes close in sheer delight when you give them a good lovin'. I just had to throw that in there for the handsome cat men in my life: Abbott and Cooper. **

**If you have time, please review! I'm so happy to have gotten something out so fast and I'd love to hear what you think. More adventures are in store!**


	16. Providence

**I planned on getting this up last night, but it was WAY past my bedtime ;) So here goes. Enjoy!**

* * *

Dusk brought with it a pervasive chill that cut through Jareth's traveling cloak as if it were silk; Sarah shuddered and hunched her shoulders against the mountain wind. If she did not find shelter soon, she would be forced to sleep in the open air, which she was loath to do due to the icy wind and the possibility of meeting with strange creatures in the night. _Or strange old women,_ she muttered softly, the wind catching her muted words and scattering them like chaff.

She pressed onward in the fading light and much to her relief, the last dying rays of the sun flashed across a dense stand of trees a few yards distant. Unlike the gold and red trees she had been passing, these were the grimy green color of oxidized copper. They were much squatter than the towering golden-leafed giants but their leaves grew only at the top of their branches, forming a natural canopy beneath which someone of Sarah's average height could sit without bending over.

Finding the space beneath them unoccupied, Sarah immediately set about making camp for the night: she started a small fire just outside the sheltering cove of foliage—grateful for the camping trips her Dad had forced on her in an attempt at father-daughter bonding. He wasn't much of an outdoorsman, but he had taught her how to make a fire and for that, she was now infinitely grateful. The small blaze, weak though it was, did much to warm her numbed extremities. Her fingers tingled sharply as she arranged her bedroll and gathered together a simple meal from the foodstuffs Moira had sent along with her.

She was still craving greasy fast food and French fries in particular. She didn't know why for she hadn't eaten anything like that in years. Karen had always been a bit of a health nut, of the reasonable sort, and so Sarah had spent much of her teen years away from store bought instant meals and fast food joints. Through college, she had prided herself on not gaining the customary "freshman fifteen" that most students gained due to the poor quality (and massive portions) found in the dining hall. She ate healthy most of the time—though she did like to indulge when it came to desserts—but she had religiously avoided greasy foods because they made her body feel sick.

She sighed, "I guess it figures that the one thing I want to eat more than anything is beyond even my wildest imagination. Sorry baby," she patted her stomach softly with wry humor in her emerald eyes. "You'll just have to lump it this time. Why don't you find something more readily available to want, eh? I suppose you're like me that way," she added wistfully. "Always wanting what I can't have."

She found comfort in speaking to her child, though she knew that it didn't have ears yet—at least, she assumed so. In truth, she was counting on this pregnancy being relatively similar to a normal human one, but she had no guarantees. The child was half-titan and as such, she couldn't take anything for granted. Still, she liked speaking to her child as if it could hear every word she said.

"With you here, baby, I'm not alone. I'd hate to think how hard it would be for me to do this completely isolated from everyone. I know you can't talk back to me and I don't even know if I'm speaking to a daughter or to a son, but you keep me company regardless. Just knowing you're inside me helps me not to be so lonely. I may not have Jareth with me, but I have a piece of him in you, my child. We'll get through this together, you and I. Just the two of us and the memory of your father."

Sarah bowed her head as a single tear fell from her closed eyes to disappear into the folds of her gown. "Oh Jareth," she whispered. "I miss you. Why didn't we get more time together? Will we ever have it again? Will you ever get to see the face of your child—your son or daughter? I pledged to spend the remainder of my life by your side—as both queen and consort. Will I be forced to rule your kingdom in your stead? I don't want you to exist as merely a memory, or as less than a memory to our child. I want to see you hold this child in your arms, and many more if we are so blessed.

I wonder if it will have your strange eyes, if it's mouth will do that strange quirk when it smiles, just like you do. If it is a boy, I hope he will have your strength and charm. If it is a girl, I pray she will be blessed with your quick wit and intelligence. Even if I never see you again, I want to see you in our baby, to see a piece of your soul looking at me through his or her eyes."

Tears were flowing freely now but Sarah was unaware of the flood raining down from her porcelain cheeks. Only when the chill wind blew against her face did she finally realize the extent of her tears. She wiped them away furiously with the sleeve of her gown.

"What am I doing? I can't waste time on tears when I don't have any water to replenish them! Besides, if I give into weeping, I'll soon be too much of a wreck to go on. Jareth and my baby need me to be strong. Tears will not bring back my beloved from Erebus, nor will they dissolve the treacherous mountains I must climb. They will only drag my spirit into despair, which is a pit I refuse to fall into; I must stay upon the heights of hope: I _will_ see Jareth again and my baby _will_ have a father in its life. There is no other option.

Now, if I'm not mistaken, I think its time for bed. Come on, baby, let's you and I get some sleep. We have a long road ahead."

Sarah banked the fire for the night and curled up into her bedroom a few feet away from the glowing coals. She hated sleeping without someone to keep guard, but she had been able to sleep well the last few nights without incident; there was nothing she could do about the lack regardless—she desperately needed whatever sleep she could get.

As she lay awake gazing at the ebb and flow of heat and light in the wake of her small cook-fire, she recalled the conversation she had with Felicia before her sojourn into the mountains.

_

* * *

Sarah awoke in the predawn tranquility on the morning of her departure. Though she could not see the sun—deep as she was in the warren of tunnels located in the heart of the mountain—the stillness in the air and her own body clock told her it was roughly an hour before dawn in the world outside. _

_She tried to fall back asleep, but her body refused to let her, or rather, her child. Ever since the night she met the old woman in the woods, she had been growing more 'aware' of the child growing within her. Every now and then, she would feel a distinct 'nudge' coming from the unborn child, as if it was trying to communicate with her somehow. She had learned about pregnancy in her biology class and from what she recalled, she should not have been able to 'feel' the child at this point in her pregnancy. Babies didn't start kicking until the second trimester and she was still pretty early in her first. _

_Yet, the nudge she felt was not physical. It was…emotional. In some strange way, she could sense her child as a distinct entity from herself; she could feel it. She was always aware of it in a factual sense: she knew she was pregnant and that there was a baby growing inside her womb. But the gentle nudges she got from her abdomen were more than mere factual knowledge; it was an awareness of some kind. It was almost as if the baby were consciously reaching out to her, its spirit somehow 'speaking' to hers. It was unnerving and confusing. _

_She knew it wasn't normal for human pregnancy, but since her child was not fully human, it was possible this had something to do with Jareth being a titan. She had resolved to speak to Felicia about it if she got the chance and since she couldn't sleep anyway, she decided to go in search of her mother-in-law. She doubted Felicia would be awake, but she thought it might be possible to slip into her room somehow and wake her without Makarios noticing. This was not a discussion to have with a man. _

_Tiptoeing down the tunnel leading to the main hall, Sarah once again felt a small nudge from her unborn child, as if it was encouraging her to continue her search. The cavernous central room was silent. At the far end, a small fire burned in the grate of a shaft with ventilation leading to the outside of the mountain—one of a few 'fireplaces' located within the tunnel system her in-laws now called home. Two comfortable chairs sat opposite each other before the cheery blaze. One was occupied, but Sarah could not see which man or woman sat pondering in the wee hours of the morning. Perhaps he or she had trouble sleeping, as she had. _

_To reach the tunnel leading to Felicia's room, she had to cross the hall and as she did so, the unknown occupant of the chair turned toward her. Sarah gasped a little as she realized it was her mother-in-law, sitting calmly as if she had been expecting Sarah to approach at any moment. _

"_Come sit down, Sarah; the room is so cold and it is much warmer by the fire. Here, have a blanket and I've taken the liberty of making some Oldenberry tea for us. It's wonderfully soothing."_

_Sarah took her seat slowly, still digesting the now certainty of the fact that Felicia had been waiting for her. _

"_Don't look so surprised, dearheart. I inherited the tiniest bit of prescience from my great-grandmother Rhea. I can't really see the future, but sometimes I get small flashes of insight into things before they happen. I woke up about twenty minutes ago with the overwhelming sensation that you needed to speak to me. So I came out here, started a fire, made some tea and settled down. I knew you would find me when you were ready." Felicia flashed her companion a dazzling smile and took a sip of her tea. She waited patiently for Sarah to speak. _

"_Well, I might as well just plunge ahead," Sarah shrugged. Felicia gestured for her to continue. "What can you tell me about pregnancy?"_

_Felicia half-choked on her tea. "Excuse me? Your mother must not have taken her duties very seriously if you had to wait until you were married to ask this question."_

"_No, that's not what I meant," Sarah flushed. "I know all about where babies come from and how human pregnancies work, but that's just it. I only know about _human_ pregnancies. I don't know anything about…well…titan childbirth. You see, I'm getting 'nudges' from my baby, like she—"_

"_She?" Felicia's eyebrows flew up in surprise._

"_Or he. I don't know yet. But regardless, I think my baby is trying to communicate with me somehow. It's very basic, like it is sending me little encouragements when I make an important decision or a small reminder that it is there. It's kind of unnerving."_

"_Darling Sarah, what you are experiencing is perfectly normal, for a titan pregnancy that is. Does that not happen with humans?"_

"_No. When we get pregnant, babies don't really make themselves 'known' (for lack of a better phrase) until much later. As far as I've been told, babies don't start to actively communicate with their mothers in the womb until they are around six months old or so—mostly kicks or other physical movements. It's never an emotional or 'spiritual' connection like I've been feeling. That's what made me wonder if it was something unique to your kind."_

_Felicia placed a comforting hand on Sarah's arm and looked her deeply in the eyes. "Don't worry, Sarah. You aren't going crazy. I can see that that's what is bothering you; you think that you're experiencing something abnormal because of the stress you're under am I right? You think you might just be imagining things because you want them to be there?"_

_Sarah nodded; Felicia had pinpointed her feelings exactly. _

"_This is not a figment of your imagination. Your baby is reaching out to you, letting you know that he, or she, is alive, well and content. It is one of the ways that titan mothers bond with their children before birth. We have few children in our lifetime and if we are blessed with multiple children, they come many decades—if not centuries—apart, so our emotional bonds with our children are much stronger. I think that it is also connected to our magical proclivities. Magical skill is innate and it brings with it many special characteristics—side-effects you might call them. Jareth is particularly strong when it comes to magical ability, so his child will likely have a strong magic skillset as well. This would enable the child to 'communicate' earlier and more strongly than an average titan child. I felt Jareth before I even knew I was pregnant, so it stands to reason that your child would be an early talker as well. _

_And with the struggles and travails you are facing, it is no wonder that this bonding comes in the form of encouragement and assurance. Your baby knows what you need, emotionally that is. It can sense your moods. In the end, you don't need to completely understand how it works—I don't fully either, if that is any consolation. What you really need to do is accept that it is normal," Felicia smirked. "As normal as any half-human, half-titan pregnancy can be." _

_Felicia's expression looked so much like Jareth that Sarah had to laugh. She was becoming more and more aware that Jareth's mischievous streak was inherited from his mother rather than from his father. He had assumed the latter, but seeing Felicia now, she saw the striking resemblance between Jareth's countenance and his mother's. Felicia's femininity softened the mischief to something less sadistic, and she also had greater wisdom, and with it, control over her rebellious inclinations, but the basic imprint was the same as her son's. Sarah loved her all the more for the realization; she admired the peaceful co-existence of playfulness and seriousness she saw in her mother-in-law's eyes. She wanted such a balance for herself. _

_The fire crackled loudly as a branch snapped in the flames, startling Sarah from her reflections. She had more questions to ask and time was growing short. Outside the thick stone walls of their mountain shelter, the sun stretched out its first rosy fingers to dispel the darkness. The faded stars glimmered once, then disappeared in the gathering light—the lesser showing due deference to the greater._

_The women spent the rest of the morning discussing the intricacies of titan pregnancies and comparing them to what Sarah knew of humans. Neither knew which characteristics would be more predominant, so Sarah was forced to mentally file away both sets of knowledge side by side to be examined when necessary. She hoped it would not be too laborious a process, but she took comfort in the assurance that her child would be able to 'help' her in some small measure. No matter what came, she wouldn't be alone._

* * *

Somewhere in the midst of her recollections, Sarah drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, one hand curled protectively around her belly. She did not see the lone pair of yellow eyes blink out of sight on other side of the glowing coals. Nor did she hear the low purr of approval as the Sphinx curled up in front of her shelter to keep watch.

* * *

The first glimmer of dawn's bright countenance tickled Sarah's nose and crept under her eyelids. Rolling over, she thought she spied a brief flash of tawny fur, but when she blinked, it was gone. Satisfied that her sleepy vision had been misinformed, she stretched languidly, not wanting to leave the comfort of her bedroll and be exposed to the crisp mountain air.

She lay in bed for another half hour, bringing up images of Jareth and basking in the glow of blissful newlywed memories. She didn't want to forget anything of their time together. Her memories stung like a thousand tiny thorns embedded under her skin—bittersweet, but necessary—driving her ever onward. When the throb of once-joyful memories and pain from the hard ground digging into her back grew too intense, she left the security of her bedroll and prepared a simple breakfast. She ate quickly and quietly, ignoring her aching back and trail-sore feet. When she finished, she packed up her camp, buried the ashes of her fire and returned to yesterday's trail.

Absorbed as she was in gaining her bearings, she didn't notice the paw-prints leading up to and away from her shelter. One booted foot fell to earth, obscuring them forever.

Her empty leather flask for water hung limply from her pack and the hollow slosh of skin against canvas greeted her every footstep, reminding her of the need to find water before the heat of the day oppressed her. _This forest is so lush and vibrant; there must be a source of water somewhere,_ she mused._ The problem will be finding a place where it comes aboveground. Underground water sources don't do me any good at this point. Keep your ears peeled for the sound of water, Sarah. _

All of a sudden, an ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech rent the air, the peaceful morning shattered in a moment. It was a cry of intense pain mingled with fear. Sarah froze instinctively; senses sharpened to detect any threat. The screech pierced the air a second time and Sarah discerned that it came from further down the path and to her right. Cautiously, she took a few more steps forward; another shrill call fractured the air, but as it seemed to come from the same location, Sarah decided that whatever made the sound was not moving.

The next few moments repeated the same agonizing dance—a few more halting steps forward, another shriek—and it continued until Sarah stood parallel to where the torturous cry came from her right. She stood indecisive for a moment, but another terrified screech goaded her into action. Counting her steps, she crept through the bushes lining the trail in the direction of the sound. After thirty-seven paces, she arrived at a clearing. Ringing the far side were dense thorn bushes armed with wickedly sharp thorns roughly five to seven inches long.

Scanning the row of spiked shrubbery, Sarah saw the source of the blood-curdling screams she had heard: a young eaglet was trapped in a thorny cage. No matter how frantically it beat its wings against the bars of its cage, it only succeeded in bringing forth fresh pricks of blood onto its brown and white feathers.

Pity welled up inside her for the young bird. _It must be terrified. But where are its mother and father? Is it abandoned? Did it fall from its nest?_ She quickly scanned the branches of the trees above her, but could not find a nest. The eaglet screeched again, its black eyes fixing on her and Sarah thought she could detect a silent plea for help in their inky depths. _I should go help it, but don't forest rangers tell you that you're not supposed to touch wild animals, especially their young? Something about how their parents will detect the 'human' smell on them and reject it. But if I don't help it, it could die._

"What should I do, child? If it were you trapped there, I would want someone to help you, no matter who the person was," Sarah rambled aloud. The thought of her child trapped, helpless, with the possibility of death turned the tide. "That settles it then. I would want help for my child in this situation, so I will offer what help I can."

She crossed the clearing in only ten steps and, kneeling down, she began to croon softly to the frightened bird, hoping to calm its frantic—though misguided—attempts at escape. The eaglet calmed enough for her to reach her hand out without fear of getting bit. She let the bird smell her, soothing it with the soft assurance that she wouldn't hurt it, that she was a friend. It eyed her suspiciously for a few second, testing her. After a few moments, it ran its beak against her extended finger gently, chirping a tiny plea for help. It had decided she was a friend.

Wary of the dagger-like thorns, Sarah reached into her pack and extracted the long, black leather gloves she had borrowed from Jareth's belongings when she left the Goblin Kingdom. They were a bit large for her in the fingers, but they were the only protection she had from the wicked barbs.

Slowly and meticulously she pulled aside the tangled branches all the while humming a soft lullaby her mother had sung to her as a child. How the eaglet managed to trap itself to thoroughly was a mystery, for the branches twisted around it like a cage. She wished for shears or a knife of some kind, but she had not thought to pack one. However, after an hour of hard labor, she managed to pry apart the tangled web of thorns enough to pull the eaglet free. It flapped its wings weakly against her gentle hands, but she continued to hum and the sound calmed its fear.

"How did you manage to hurt yourself so badly, your poor thing?" she soothed. She pulled the eaglet close to her breast and stroked its feathers tenderly, maternally. "Don't you have a mother and father to look after you?"

A sharp cry from nearby answered her question. The clearing was suddenly plunged into shadow and Sarah could hear a furious flapping of wings signaling the approach of one or more of the parent birds. A large eagle touched down inches away and the baby eaglet began chirping excitedly, pushing against Sarah's hands with its still damaged wings. Sarah opened her hands and set the eaglet down on the grass. She made sure to back away slowly so that the parent would not mistake her movements for hostility.

The eagle folded its massive brown wings gracefully against its body. Hearing the cry of its young, the eagle turned so quickly that a flurry of leaves were swept up into the air like a small tornado. Sarah shielded her face from the air-blown missiles but did not back away further. Opening her eyes, Sarah saw the mother eagle—for thus she presumed it was—stooped over its chick, parental concern marking her every movements as she examined the wounds the thorns had inflicted on her baby. The eaglet chirred happily and rubbed its beak against its mother's neck feathers.

When the mother was satisfied that her young was not too badly injured, her eyes swept the clearing cursorily, spotting the now broken cage of thorns with a few specks of blood still visible. Finally, she pivoted so that she could face Sarah, stooping down to where Sarah sat on the ground so that they were on eye level with each other. For a long moment, the two mothers sized each other up. Sarah was not afraid, for the eagle did not appear hostile, only curious.

Satisfied that the human had been the rescuer from rather than instigator of her child's pain, the mother eagle trilled gratefully and bowed her head to touch her baby. In response, the eaglet hopped forward awkwardly and rubbed its beak against Sarah's hands, twittering merrily.

"I understand," Sarah replied, her voice full of emotion. "You're welcome."

The eaglet to its mother questioningly and gave a tiny chirp, its eyes flicking between Sarah and its mother. Some unspoken conversation passed between the two animals ending in the mother's low trill and the baby bobbing delightedly. The eaglet glanced backward at Sarah, hopped a few steps back toward its mother then turned back to Sarah again. The pattern repeated until the bird reached the end of the clearing not populated by thorn bushes. Again, the eaglet took a few hops into the brush, then poked its tiny head back through them and chirped insistently.

"Oh!" Sarah exclaimed. "Do you want me to follow you?" The eaglet chirped again, this time at its mother who nudged Sarah in her baby's direction with her beak. Ever so gently, mother and child led Sarah through the brush. Though strange, Sarah submitted to the treatment calmly; she had been subjected to far more dangerous and ridiculous situations in the Underground. Following a baby eagle and its mother seemed reasonable in comparison.

As it turned out, she was exceedingly grateful that she had followed them, for when they halted, Sarah discerned the sound of running water. Darting past the mother eagle without a thought as to the possible dangers, she knelt reverently beside the clear flowing stream and wept for joy.

On her knees beside the streambed, she faced the eagles humbly, almost prayerfully. "Oh thank you, thank you both so much! I don't know how I can repay you."

The mother chirruped a response and nuzzled her baby affectionately. Sarah understood that this was the mother's way of showing her gratitude for rescuing her baby, though Sarah had the impression that the idea had actually come from the eaglet rather than the mother.

Looking the eaglet in the eye, she whispered another thank you with a smile in her eyes and outstretched hands. She wasn't sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her, but she thought she could detect the ghost of a smile in the way the eaglet's beak curved upward. She stared harder and she had the distinct impression that the eaglet winked. Then, with the regal beat of wings and a flurry of air, the eaglet and its mother took off from the ground and flew away beyond the tree-obscured horizon, one final cry echoing in the morning air.

Sarah drank greedily from the stream, heedless of the indecorous position she had to assume in bending over the rocky shore to reach the cool water. She drank until her belly could hold no more, then she refilled her flask nigh to bursting. She didn't know when she would reach another stream and she refused to be caught again without a good supply of fluids.

She sat on the bank of the stream for a few moments to rest, but she couldn't keep still. _I might as well look around a little bit at this place while I'm here. As long as I stay within sight of this spot, I will be able to get back to the trail. A little exploration couldn't hurt; maybe there is a place I could bathe._ She smelled herself and felt her hair. _I could do with a good washing._

She decided to walk twenty paces in either direction to see what she could find. Setting up a small pile of rocks to mark her position, she decided to head upstream—that is, to her right—along the stream bank. After fifteen paces, she caught sight of a movement coming from between the rocks ahead. Upon closer inspection, the frenetic movements materialized into the form of a fish floundering in a small hollow between three large rocks. Somehow, the fish had managed to get trapped there and was now unable to free itself. It was slowly choking on the fresh air and Sarah could see the wild fear in its eyes as it thrashed wildly about in its stone prison.

Though lunch was a few hours away, the sight of the helpless fish caused her stomach to grumble hungrily. She briefly considered allowing it to die here so that she could use it for food later that day, but it looked at her so pleadingly with its orange-rimmed eyes that she could not help but wonder if it was silently begging for mercy. In the end, pity won out over hunger and she decided instead to free the creature from its misery. She approached cautiously; the rocks were slippery. Kneeling down over the hollow, she scooped the fish up in her hands. Its silver-grey scales glittered frostily against the pale skin of her delicate palms—quicksilver and sand.

She barely had time to turn toward the water before the fish shot from her hand, its slippery skin gliding away like fine satin. Sarah sighed contentedly, happy to have freed another helpless creature from a merciless death. Perhaps it was the mother in her, but she was feeling decidedly benevolent today. She felt a nudge from her abdomen that signified her child's approbation. _I'm glad you approve,_ she answered mentally, one hand cupping her stomach unconsciously. _I want to be generous. Like your father. _She smiled as another memory of Jareth resurfaced.

She heard a loud series of splashes coming from the stream and—thinking the fish had again met with danger—her eyes darted rapidly across the surface of the water to find the source. Her eyes met with a completely different scene than she expected: the fish she had just rescued was leaping joyfully through the water in fantastic leaps and twirls. It swam exuberant circles around a boulder, finishing with a flourish of twirling fins and serpentine flips through the bright morning air. Water droplets sparkled in the sunlight like diamonds and Sarah abruptly heard her own voice ringing with delighted laughter. The fish gave one final flick of its tail in her direction and disappeared amidst the rocks further downstream, but not before leaping up to suggestively brush against the overhanging branches of a bush heavy with bright yellow berries.

Sarah devoured the fruit hungrily and found it both sweet and refreshing—tasting of honeydew melon mingled with raspberry. She pulled out a headscarf from her pack and filled it with the exotic fruit—something to snack on later and add zest to the plain traveler's fare she carried with her.

Bubbling over with joy, Sarah retraced her steps to the small mound of rocks by the stream and back through the clearing to the path in order to continue on her journey through the Treeline. She was moving steadily upward through the mountains and she wondered whether the trail led to the top or if she would soon reach a pass through which she would attain to the first barrier the Sphinx had spoken of.

_A barrier of earth. What can it be? More mountains I suppose, as that is the only barrier of earth that would make sense in this terrain. If it is mountains or something else, I will find a way over it, under it, or through it, even if I have to wear out my shoes doing it. _

* * *

The rest of her day passed uneventfully. She stopped briefly for lunch when the dim light of the Underground sun was high in the sky. Seeking shelter beneath the towering branches of a fire tree—her own name for the red and gold leafed giants that blazed brightly in the sunlight—and ate her a meal of waybread (a small, round and dense cake that tasted lightly of sesame and almonds) and a handful of the yellow berries the fish had shown her. After another swig of cool water from her flask, she set out again, keeping an eye out for any available shelters that she could stay in for the night.

As afternoon faded into dusk, Sarah could feel the weight of the long day's travel wearing on her body. Her back ached from hormones and her pack; her neck was sore from craning it upward to scan the trail ahead. Her breath was coming in short bursts now, for she had gained a great deal of altitude and the air was thinner here. The trees were becoming sparser and clumps of boulders and sharp crags were fast becoming the predominant feature of the landscape.

Pausing to catch her breath, she heard a distant, indistinct rustling coming from a stand of trees a few yards away. Thinking she had imagined the sound, she had prepared to shoulder her pack once more when the sounds came again, this time louder, followed by a pitiful mewling.

Curious what creature she would find on this occasion, Sarah crept toward the stand of trees hurriedly. When she arrived, the sound had disappeared. _I must have scared off whatever it was,_ she reflected. _I should have been a bit quieter._

After another few moments of silence, however, she heard the rustling sound again, this time much louder. It was coming from only a few feet away and the whimpered cries were now distinguishable as coming from acute pain and distress. A few leaves stirred under a bush to her right; then, large pile of them cascaded downward to reveal a small hare caught in a steel trap. The mottled brown of the hare's fur was stained red where the trap had dug into one of its hind legs. Its beady black eyes fixed on her fearfully and the animal began thrashing even more wildly, which only increased the flow of blood oozing from the open wound on its leg.

Sarah began to hum softly, as she had done for the trapped eaglet that morning. The hare's wild movements slowed, but did not stop. She pulled out a few of the berries from her pack and placed them within feeding distance of the trapped hare. It sniffed them suspiciously, but finding nothing amiss, it gobbled them up and began mewling for more instantly. Her peace offering thus accepted, Sarah approached the hare more closely, continuing to hum the soothing lullaby her mother had taught her.

The trap presented a problem, for Sarah was unfamiliar with hunting devices. She briefly wondered how a trap had gotten so far out in the Treeline when there were no other living persons around to utilize such a device, but she shrugged the question off like water. _Things aren't always what they seem in this place. I can't take anything for granted._

Using a thick branch from a nearby fallen tree, Sarah prized open the trap and gently removed the injured hare. Free of its metallic prison, the hare immediately tried to run away. Only a few feet away, it fell over from exhaustion and blood loss, its body heaving with the exertion. Moved again by pity, Sarah tore a strip of cloth from her under-dress and delicately bound up the hare's wounded leg.

"It won't fix you up properly," she instructed. "But it should stop the bleeding. If I were you, I wouldn't go tramping about all over the forest. Just get some rest and take it easy."

The animal appeared to understand her, for it immediately stopped worrying at the frayed edges of the cloth that hung tantalizingly within reach of its sharp teeth. However, instead of remaining at rest, the creature jumped up and began hopping lopsidedly through the undergrowth.

"Stop that!" Sarah chided. "I told you to stay put!" _What am I thinking? I'm talking to a rabbit that probably can't understand a word I say. Way to go Sarah, you're a regular Snow White._

Determined not to let the hare injure itself further, Sarah followed its tortured path through the sparse foliage. It led her upward and to the left of the path she had been following, seemingly straight toward a windswept wall of stone. When it came to the edge of the brush, it took a few more limping hops and collapsed at the entrance to a cave hidden beneath a low overhang of rock.

Sarah squealed in surprised delight and strode forward eagerly to the sheltering darkness of the cave. Behind her, the hare's beady eyes followed her every movement and when she had crouched low to enter the cave, it twitched its nose once and bounded away lightly from stone to stone until it was out of sight. A gust of wind caught up the white and red scrap of cloth from its injured leg and bore it away over the trees.

**

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Thanks for reading, folks! It is so delightful to have so many of your leaving reviews and letting me what you think. I'm so thrilled! **


	17. Delphic Oracle

**I'm baaaack! Did you miss me? I have another chapter for you to read. Enjoy!**

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"Don't be too hard on him," Apollo's resonant voice cut through Jareth's abstraction. "As I recall, he has always been a trickster, and he usually means no harm by his pranks."

Jareth snorted derisively and rolled his eyes. He was still peeved that Hermes had sought to use his powers to escape his much-deserved tenure in Erebus. _The man deserves hell for what he and his family did to the Aboveground. I refuse to feel sorry for him._

"I know what you're thinking Jareth," Apollo countered, his honey eyes boring into Jareth's own mismatched blue ones. "You think his sole purpose in befriending you was to use you, am I right?"

Jareth gave a curt nod of assent, his wild blonde hair shaking with subdued fury.

"I will not deny that the thought of being able to escape the prolonged agony of living in the Underworld did cross his mind," Apollo grinned benignly in the direction of Hermes' unseen figure still lingering outside the cave walls. "He can be one-track minded about escape, tricksters and pranksters don't like being trapped anywhere, especially when they are powerless to change their situation.

"But I must assure you that he truly does admire and respect you Jareth. There have been few like him in the entire history of our cosmos; I believe that he truly thinks of you as a kindred spirit—someone with whom he can share a common appreciation of mischief, playfulness and sarcasm. You are more alike than you would possibly be comfortable admitting, Jareth. Your home and upbringing have shaped you both irrevocably, but at heart, you share a common nature, one that unfortunately distances you from others. I do not know much about your life, but Hermes has few friends; his, ah, rather rambunctious sensibilities have run many of our relatives ragged. Perhaps you have been fortunate enough to have a family that respects your character. That you are joined to a woman tells me that you are far more endearing to the fairer sex than Hermes was.

"In short, Jareth, Hermes is lonely. For the most part, his family ignores him and he has no lovely human Queen to wile away the hours with. You're the first being to come here that he feels kinship with. Add to that the loss of his former powers and you can see why he is so desperate to have your approval. In you he sees what he once was and still desires to be, if he could escape this hellhole we're all imprisoned to. He admires your magical abilities and may see himself as a possible mentor for those abilities based on his age and experience."

Jareth flushed angrily at the suggestion that he might need training or maturity in the use of his magic, but Apollo forestalled any objection on his part with a simple wave of his hand. Something about the man's presence commanded respect and humility, so much so that even Jareth was willing to forego his tendency to defy authority and submit to Apollo's wisdom.

"So," Apollo continued. "While I agree with you that Hermes may have sought to use your skills in substitution for his own lost ones in a misguided attempt to free himself, I think that is only one small fraction of his relationship with you. When we are desperate to escape a less than satisfactory situation, we all have the inclination to use the tools at hand. In such dire straits, even other persons can become tools. You know this, Jareth, for you yourself have used others as tools for your own ends, yet their utility does not negate the possibility of having, shall we say, more tender feelings for them." Apollo inclined his head inquisitively and fell silent.

Jareth shuffled through the mental images his memory supplied. He could think of numerous occasions where he had used the goblins in such a way—subtly (or not so subtly, if the goblin was not particularly intelligent) maneuvering them to comply with his wishes without having to issue a direct command. Yet Apollo was right to remind him of his own fondness for the goblins. Though he found them shockingly stupid most of the time, he still felt a distinct tenderness for them: the way one can be fond of a particularly dimwitted pet dog.

The vision of a slightly chubby face with a bulbous nose and watery eyes came unbidden to his mind—his formerly most trustworthy spy, Hoggle. When Sarah had run the Labyrinth, he had been Jareth's most prominent tool to discourage and delay her victory. _I couldn't even remember his name most of the time, _Jareth recalled. _I used him to try to destroy her resolve and I belittled him along the way. Yet…I admired his willingness to defy me, even if he was cowardly about it and tried to pretend he was on my side when all along he was helping her. For as much as I threatened him, he still valued Sarah's friendship more than my power to harm him. He may be a lousy little scab, but he's a lively chap, too. _

_I suppose I have a soft spot for him after all, though that doesn't mean I wouldn't throw him into the Bog if he defied me again. _Jareth grinned as he imagined how Hoggle's eyes would bulge and his lips quiver if Jareth ever threatened him with the Bog. _He has no idea how amusing his antics were. So amusing that I sometimes threatened him with the Bog just to see him squirm. Such a delightfully easy target._

"I see what you mean," Jareth replied, a ghost of a smirk still evident in the slight upturn of his mouth. He was lounging effortlessly on a rough-hewn wooden chair, one leg dangling over the other and swaying carelessly to inaudible music. He looked as arrogantly comfortable as he did in his own throne. Opposite him, Apollo sat with his elbows resting on the armrests of a matching wooden chair. His fingertips touched reflectively in front of his bronzed face, his eyes following the rhythmic movement of Jareth's foot. He raised his eyes to Jareth's handsome features and the two stared at each other in silence for a long moment.

"Perhaps it is time you get some sleep, Jareth," Apollo suggested without moving his eyes from his companion's. "You have had a long journey and though there is no night in hell, there is still the possibility of rest for a weary traveler."

In one fluid movement, Apollo stood to his feet and stretched out his hand to the Goblin King where he sat immobile in the homemade chair. Ignoring the proffered hand, Jareth rose on his own power to meet Apollo face to face. They were of the same height, though Apollo's learned countenance made him appear far taller than he was.

"Thank you," Jareth replied flatly. "But I don't think—"

"You must sleep, Jareth. In sleep our minds may begin to unknot the tangled web of truth and perception that frustrates our waking hours. In rest you may find answers to some of your questions. Or perhaps," a glimmer of amusement passed through Apollo's eyes, "more questions."

* * *

"_Sarah," Jareth screamed into the cold, unfriendly skies. "Why couldn't I save you? Why couldn't I help you? Why?"_

_He clutched the limp form of his wife closer to his breast and cried into the cascade of hair falling over her lifeless body. Tears mingled with blood. He looked down again at the body in his arms. She was pale—paler in death than in life—the fresh blush of peach was gone from her cheeks, leaving only the ashen color of death. Her green eyes stared fixedly at the sky; the fire in them had cooled to dust and no flicker of joy or anger would light them again. Blood seeped from a gaping wound in her head, matting her hair and staining her creamy flesh crimson. _

_Sarah's life dripped from Jareth's elegant fingers and his face was covered with blood, sweat and tears. He didn't care. Cradling Sarah's face in his hands, he bent down to kiss her lifeless lips reverently. He wiped a few stray blood-soaked ebony curls from her forehead, ignoring the red smears left by his tender caress. _

"_Sarah. Sarah, Sarah. Oh my love, my life. Where is the light in your eyes? So cruel, to mock my in death, to go where I cannot follow. Your eyes are so cruel. Sarah, please. I can't…I can't live without your sunlight. I cannot love without your heartbeat. Sarah. Sarah. I can't live...without you." He wept fresh tears, helpless to revive her, helpless to do anything but allow his pain to eat away at his broken heart. It felt as if someone had ripped his still-bleeding heart from his chest and left him to live without it. His phantom heart pounded against his ribs painfully, achingly, yearningly. He opened his mouth to scream in anguish, but no sound escaped his bloodstained lips but a weak gurgle of spit and agony._

_His non-existent heart pounded harder and he reached one hand up to clutch at his bare chest. He could feel the smooth edges of his amulet beneath his ragged fingers and he grasped the golden crescent as if it were a life preserver. He felt it squirm uncannily in his palm and he looked down to see a small bird beating its wings frantically against his crushing grip. He opened his hand and the bird flew away beyond the horizon. _

_He again felt the aching hollow of his chest pressing itself outward and he desperately clutched Sarah's limp body to his chest as if to force her—his very heart—back inside him._

* * *

Jareth awoke in a daze. He felt the phantom pains of his broken-hearted sorrow in his chest, but ignored them. His blanket and the bedroll beneath him were soaked in sweat and he briefly wondered where he was. But the harsh reality of his predicament eluded his still dream-fogged brain. Too weary to analyze the images he rolled over and returned to sleep and another trouble dream.

_

* * *

He was stranded in the moving walls of his own Labyrinth. He didn't know where in the maze he was, but he immediately recognized the many-eyed lichen and glitter-imbued stones of his magical masterpiece. _

_Somewhere behind him, a child's voice called his name. He swung around a caught a glimpse of tan shorts, skinny legs, and sneakers turning a corner. He followed the voice, certain that the answer to what he was doing here lay in the mind of the unseen child. He turned several more corners without coming any closer to the child. _

"_Jareth, Jareth, Jareth," the voice echoed tauntingly around him. "Come and get me Jareth. Help me. I need you."_

_It sounded like Toby. He passed through another opening and finally caught sight of the child's face. It was a boy and his features looked remarkably similar to his wife's younger brother when he had come to rescue her several months ago. Toby looked at Jareth sadly, small tears burgeoning from his eyes. Jareth started forward but Toby turned from him and ran off again. _

_Jareth pursued Toby through the entire Labyrinth, rarely perceiving more than a flash of fabric or a tuft of brown hair in front of him. He wondered how a child so young could outstrip him so easily. By the time they reached the end of the twisting passages and ever-changing walls of the Labyrinth, Jareth was breathing heavily and his legs almost gave out under him as his bent over to catch his breath._

_Looking up, he saw that the boy facing him was no longer Toby. This boy had jet-black hair and strange eyes: one was blue, the other green. Jareth ran to him and put his arms on the boy's shoulders. _

"_Who are you?" Jareth asked, his voice shadowed with fear. _

_The boy opened his mouth to answer, but before he could make a sound, the boy's face twisted eerily. His features melted and reshaped themselves into a grotesque parody of a face emblazoned on Jareth's memory. It was the last face Jareth had seen before being banished to the Underworld. From a child's body the leering face of Ammon stared back at him in mockery. Jareth recoiled and suddenly, the boy began to crumble beneath Jareth's hands. The boy's arms gave way and ashes slid between Jareth's shocked fingers. The boy continued to dissolve until all that was left was a grey pile of ash on smooth stone. _

_Finally, everything went black._

* * *

After the nightmare, Jareth fell into a deep, dreamless sleep and he did not awaken for hours. He awoke haunted, unable to shake the vivid images of Sarah, dead in his arms and the strange boy crumbling to ash. Calling to mind Apollo's words, he grew angry. Sleep had not brought him answers, only questions. It had brought not resolution but a fresh wave of frustration and fear.

He rose speedily from his bed and sought his host. He found Apollo sitting quietly at the mouth of the cave, his eyes fixed on the dismal, grey flatlands from which Jareth and Hermes had come. Setting politeness aside, Jareth took a few steps toward Apollo and nudged him with the tip of his boot. Apollo turned to him with a genteel smile and gestured for him to sit beside him.

"I prefer to stand, thank you." Jareth answered, leaning carelessly against one wall of the cave opening.

Apollo shrugged as if to say, "suit yourself" and returned his gaze to the foul plains below, not moving except to speak through his full lips. "How did you sleep last night Jareth? You appear troubled this morning."

"You lied Apollo," Jareth retorted. "You said sleep would _assist_ my mental disarray not muck it up further."

"I warned you that it might leave you with more questions than answers," Apollo replied gently, as to a child.

Jareth felt his temper rising, but he kept it under control. He refused to allow another Olympian to dangle him around like a toy. He promised himself that this time, he would remain in control.

Pulling his face into a mask of humility he admitted, "You were right. I have far more questions than answers."

Apollo looked deeply into Jareth's eyes for a long moment before noting, "It is more than questions that plague your mind, former Goblin King. You are deeply troubled about what you saw. I did not expect this. Please, sit, tell me what you dreamt and I will do my best to interpret it for you."

Jareth looked askance at the sagacious face of his host, his eyebrows raised haughtily. Apollo was undeterred by Jareth's refusal; he raised one hand to help the arrogant king sit down beside him and waited patiently until Jareth acquiesced. He gestured for Jareth to speak while keeping his own thoughts silent.

Jareth resigned himself to the discussion, a bit piqued at being ordered around so effortlessly and yet so silently. However, despite his reticence he grew increasingly relieved as he shared his nighttime torment with Apollo, who did not speak but rather silently encouraged Jareth to continue until he had completed his tale in full. When Jareth finished, he found that his fears weighed less heavily upon his consciousness than they had when he awoke.

"Well," he said when at last Apollo's persistent silence had begun to unnerve him, "what do they mean?"

Apollo's eyes—previously so full of wisdom and knowledge—were shadowed. "These are strange dreams indeed, Jareth, that you should dream of death twice in one night…ah well, perhaps it means nothing. But perhaps, everything. There is much in the Underground that is in turmoil, that much is clear. Your beloved Queen is no doubt in much danger."

"Is she dead? Is that why I saw her that way, because it is true?" Jareth gasped.

"Not everything that we see in dreams has a direct correlation with reality. It is more probable that you sense Sarah is in danger and fear her death. More importantly, you believe yourself to be somehow responsible or at the very least, helpless to intervene to save her." Apollo anticipated that Jareth would have questions and waved them away. "That is not the dream that interests me most; it is mostly straight-forward. What intrigues me is this dream you had about the boy. You say you never saw the boy until the end?"

"No, I caught glimpses of him while I chased him through the Labyrinth and at one point, I was certain his face was Toby's. But when I arrived at the end, he looked completely different. It was a child I have never seen before."

"Your wife's brother Toby, he is important to you?" Apollo probed.

"Ah, um, well, yes. I suppose so," Jareth hedged, trying hard not to display emotion to someone who, though helpful, was a stranger to him in many ways.

"You don't like to admit that, do you? Interesting," Apollo murmured. He cupped his chin between his thumb and forefinger reflectively and stared intensely into Jareth's face. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny, Jareth chose to analyze the composition of the wall behind Apollo's bronzed head.

In the face of Jareth's taciturnity, Apollo continued his musings, "The combination of three faces on the one child symbolizes the threefold order of the world: Aboveground (your sister's brother), Underground (the child with the strange eyes) and Underworld (the face of your enemy who sent you here). The crumbling to ash is a portent of the possible dissolution of the three worlds should order and harmony between the three not be restored."

"I don't understand what you mean about order between the three worlds. Is something wrong with them?"

Apollo exhaled a longsuffering sigh, "I suppose I need to start at the beginning. It seems your family's stint in the Underground has led to a gross neglect in your history lessons."

Irritated once again that his family was being criticized by one who had been the means of ruining them, Jareth defended them from Apollo's disdain, "My family has not been so remiss as you think, Apollo. My mother and father taught me the history of the cosmos when I was just a boy. However, since _your_ _father_ so cruelly interred us in the second tier, we have been unable to make contact with the Aboveground and therefore are severely limited in our ability to gather recent information about the structural integrity and order of the world. You Olympians have only yourselves to blame for our ignorance."

Apollo laughed and his honey-colored eyes shone with merriment, "Touché, Jareth! You're not so meek as you present yourself when you're trying to control your temper," he winked. "If you will forgive me, I goaded you on purpose. You must let go of your inclination to so tightly control your temper. Your anger can be a powerful weapon, and trust me, you will need all the strength you can muster for the fight that is coming."

Shocked by Apollo's candor, Jareth could only nod his head curtly in response. Apollo continued to beam delightedly; he knew Jareth didn't like being toyed with. _However, _he thought, _Jareth must learn to channel his anger into a usable force rather than shunt it. I sense a strong aura of magic about him and he must use it to the best of his ability if he is to divert the storm gathering on the horizon. _

"Jareth," Apollo began, gravity replaced mirth and his face was a mask of somber reflection. "You must be prepared for what is coming."

"What do you mean? What's coming? Is it another one of your Olympian banishments?" Jareth asked, incredulous and mocking at the same time.

"Perhaps it will be nothing, if the right people act appropriately," Apollo mused. "If not, the end of all things may be at hand."

Jareth flung back his head and laughed, his handsome face lifted to the dismal sky, "You almost had me going there for a minute. I really must tell that one to my subjects, they do so enjoy a good joke." Jareth continued to laugh into the empty darkness of the cave. When no one joined him, he looked about as if expecting a horde of goblins to peak out from the rocks and holes to join in his amusement. His searching eyes found only the somber gaze of Apollo seated across from him at the cave opening.

His laughter died, "You're serious."

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Bwahahahaha! You won't get anything more than that for now! I hope to have another chapter tomorrow for you, but it depends on what my family has planned. Home for the holidays means more people to bug you out of writing and actually spend time with them ;) I love my family, though. SO, leave me some love (in the form of a review) and maybe I'll be nice and write faster. **


	18. Crystal Balls

**Just so that you all know, I've recently updated both my last story and this one to include the 'real names' of Sarah's parents. I was tired of getting (well meaning of course) comments about it, so I fixed it. I was planning on doing it anyway, so I just did it sooner. Anyhoodle, here's another chapter for your enjoyment!**

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Lest anyone think our Great Queen journeyed in silence and isolation from those she loved, one must recall that she took with her the golden ring Jareth, Goblin King, had given her at their joining. Though its appearance was similar to rings worn by other human females when they are wed, the golden band set with diamonds and a single, round gem in the center worn by Sarah, Goblin Queen was more than merely decorative. Wrought by Jareth, the ring bore his magic in its heart._

_The sparkling gem in the central setting refracted sunlight like a diamond, but in reality it was a miniature crystal Jareth made especially for his wife. Carefully he honed his magical skill to create a crystal one-hundredth the size of the ones he used for his own magical demonstrations. He crafted the miniature orb to serve as a communicative device so that the Queen—lacking the magic necessary to speak with her family in the Aboveground—might contact her brother by means of the crystal Jareth had secreted away with the boy upon his return Aboveground. Thus brother and sister might 'see' each other without the Goblin Queen needing to break the embargo Phainon had enforced upon the King and Queen to prevent them interfering with the Aboveground._

_During the months preceding Jareth's capture and banishment, Sarah Williams had frequently utilized this means of communicating in order to hear how her family was doing in her absence and to keep her brother Toby informed of what was happening in the Underground while he was continuing his human life apart. She never contacted her parents, knowing that they were not ready to hear about her new life. However, the bond between her and her brother deepened despite the distance and they grew to rely on constant—almost daily—communication. _

_However, when Danic took Jareth away, and the Goblin Queen was forced to make the journey across the Kingdoms to the Court of the Wise and beyond, she neglected conversing with her brother and her ring and its power were all but forgotten. So full was her mind with the Goblin King and her child that she failed to contact her brother Toby for over three months. While her mind was preoccupied with the safety and deliverance of child and husband, her brother languished in neglect, left to fear the worst for his sister. _

_But the bonds of family transcend both space and time enabling a sometimes uncanny, subconscious reminder of those we love but are not yet lost to us. And so it was that after meeting with the Sphinx, her unconscious mind drew her back to her family and one night, she dreamt she saw her brother Toby crying out to her from the void. Upon awakening, she took her ring between her thumb and forefinger and called out to her brother, summoning an image of him in her mind in order to solidify the connection. When she received no reply, she was undaunted. Though she did not stave off her quest, neither did she desist from summoning her brother until, at long last, he answered her and brother and sister were reunited, albeit briefly._

——_Excerpt from "The Travails of the Goblin Queen," Appendixed to the Annals of the Court of the Wise by Asenath, Court Scribe, in the year 7534, Age of Restoration_

* * *

Her mind filled with housework and other family affairs, Karen almost did not notice the strange prisms of color dancing lightly over the walls of her son's room. Toby was at school and under normal circumstances she would not dare enter his domain while he was away. In the past several months he had developed a teenager's sense of privacy about his room—though the boy was only eight years old.

_Almost nine,_ she mentally corrected herself. _His birthday is only a week away. I have most of his presents bought and wrapped, but he has yet to give me a list of friends he wants to have over for his party. _She shook her head sadly, _the poor boy is turning out just like Sarah. So wrapped up in his fantasies that he has little time for friends and a normal life. I wish he'd get his head out of the clouds and come back down to earth before he wastes his life away like she did. I don't want him to end up roaming the world in God knows where without contacting his family for months on end._

Karen sighed. Hearing no news from her stepdaughter for so long had been more difficult on her than she had imagined. Though she had never been extremely close with Sarah, her stepdaughter was the only daughter she had and she still longed for the normal mother-daughter bond she had lacked with her own mother. Sarah's teenage years had been filled with tension on both sides: Sarah hated Karen for having authority over her yet not being her own mother and Karen had resented Sarah's defiant attitude and selfish neglect of the family. However, several years ago, something had changed on Sarah's side that led to a deepening of their bond.

Karen had never understood it, for Sarah had seemingly changed overnight from a self-absorbed teenager to a mature participant in the family circle. She had even begun suggesting shopping trips together and spending more time in family activities—movie nights, family dinners, etc. Since then, though they had never been decidedly close, they grew to like, if not truly love, the other while at the same time respecting their differences and the gap that existed by the very nature of not being blood-relatives. Sarah and Karen would never have the solid mother-daughter bond that Karen yearned for, but they were friends and Karen missed her.

However, since neither she nor Robert had any clue where to begin searching for their daughter, they had been forced to continue with their lives as normally as possible. Robert worried about her a great deal more than he let on, though Karen pierced his seemingly placid façade with little difficulty. He had always shared something special with Sarah—as she was his only daughter and the only child from his first marriage—and Karen perceived that Sarah's long silence distressed him. She knew he feared the worst: that Sarah had been kidnapped or forced into an undesirable marriage with a gangster or some other cruel fate; they had shared their fears on the subject not long ago and though Robert tried to put up a brave face, Karen could see he was still very concerned for his daughter's well being.

Strangely, Toby was the only one who did not seem overly concerned about Sarah's absence, a fact that made Karen wonder if Toby was in denial. _The two of them were so close, despite the age difference and the fact that he was only her half-brother. I don't understand how he can act so impassively. Perhaps it is his youth; children have an easier time accepting loss and hoping for the best. He probably doesn't understand that he might not see his sister again. Ah to be young and optimistic again, _Karen exhaled longingly.

She was walking down the hall toward the staircase—she had laundry to do and a dinner to start preparing (stuffed manicotti with a fresh green salad and fruit)—and she almost didn't notice anything amiss in Toby's room. Almost. Her first clue was the half-open door; Toby had been lethargic this morning, claiming he had a weird dream and couldn't sleep. Usually, he shut his door tightly against any foreign intrusion, but today, in his sleep-deprived stupor, he had failed to shut the door completely and the uneven flooring had encouraged it to swing open a few more inches.

Knowing how much Toby preferred privacy, Karen moved to shut his door but a second oddity gave her pause. From beyond the open door, she could see dazzling motes of multicolored light pirouetting from floor to ceiling and back again, like a whirlwind of rainbow glitter that refused to heed gravity's demands. Intrigued, she pushed Toby's door open completely. The vision of light and color almost blinded her and she had to shade her eyes from the luminescent maelstrom. It was beautiful and frightening; she wondered what Toby had been concealing that was capable of producing this vision.

Her eyes slowly grew adjusted to the dancing light of her son's private aurora borealis, enough that she was able to locate the source: Toby's underwear drawer, still half-open from the boy's hurried change from pajamas to school clothes. Amidst the mass of spiderman, batman and soccer ball prints staring back at her was a gleaming, sparkling sphere about the size of a baseball. This was the source of the refracted light surrounding her; light from the open window spilled resplendently over the orb and filled the room with color.

Karen was speechless and frozen in shock. Now Karen was a sensible, proper woman not given to swearing. "Foul language means you have a foul heart," she used to tell Toby to stave off any attempts to use such language in her home. He would sigh and mumble something about being too young to have these sorts of talks, but Karen was strict. She refused to let crude language be an issue in her home.

However, such was her bewilderment at seeing the shining ball in her son's room that she found herself exclaiming, "Oh damn it all. What the hell is that _thing_? TOBY!!"

But her son was at school—little did he know the salvation school afforded him that day—and he could not answer her.

In the end curiosity overcame fear and she reached out to take the crystal in her hands. It felt like glass or crystal—smooth, inflexible, as fragile as a soap bubble but hard as diamond. It was mesmerizing.

She held it close to her face between her cupped palms, trying to discern its manufacture. _Why does Toby have this in his room? Where did he get it? _And then, unbidden, _Does this have something to do with Sarah's disappearance? _

As if summoned by some arcane sorcery, a miniature image began to blossom in the depths of the crystal orb. Spellbound, she could not tear her eyes away from the flowering picture. Black hair and a pale face covered with sweat and grime. The woman wore a bejeweled coronet befitting a queen, yet her countenance bespoke a bittersweet mixture of sorrow and determination; her face turned toward her summoner and Karen screamed.

"S-s-s-sarah? What is this?" Karen stuttered.

"MOM?! What are you doing in my room?" Toby's voice thrust its way through Karen's distress and the terrified woman turned to see her son gaping at her from the doorway. His backpack fell from his limp shoulder to lay neglected on the hardwood floor. A loose pencil rolled out of the unzipped front pocket and disappeared under his bed.

Silence hung over the room like a storm cloud.

"Toby," Karen whispered, holding out the crystal in one hand to her son. "What is this?"

"It's just a crystal, Mom," Toby replied calmly, reaching out to take it from her.

Karen drew back her hand, bringing the crystal to her chest and away from Toby's proffered hand. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, "You're lying, Toby. You never could lie very well and I can see straight through you. What is this 'crystal' and what does it have to do with Sarah?"

"Sarah?" Toby whimpered meekly. "Why should it have anything to do with Sarah?"

"Because when I was looking at it. I saw—I should say I _thought_ I saw, because it is so ridiculous it can't possibly be true—your sister wearing a crown on her head and covered in dirt. Do you know anything about that?"

Toby shuffled his feet nervously, suddenly taking interest in a small string dangling from the hem of his shirt.

"Toby," Karen warned, her foot tapping dangerously. "I'm waiting."

"You're not gonna believe me," Toby finally muttered.

"What? I can't hear you. Speak up; don't mumble."

"I said that you're not going to believe me, so what's the point?" Toby replied, raising his head to look at his mother defiantly. "You never believe anything I say. Besides, I promised Sarah I wouldn't tell. And you're always telling me not to break my promises."

Toby looked smug, but his mother was not finished interrogating him. "Have you heard from Sarah since she disappeared? Have you been holding out on your father and I? Think carefully, Toby. You wouldn't want to jeopardize your involvement in your school's summer trip to Greece, would you?"

Toby's school had recently approved of a summer program that allowed children ages eight to twelve to spend half of their summer in Greece studying history, art, and ancient Greek culture. Though Toby had shown little interest in the trip at the beginning of the school year, in recent months he had practically begged his parents to allow him to go. Karen and Robert had given him permission, but only if Karen were to travel with him as an official chaperone. It had taken months to gain their assent and Karen knew her son would do anything to avoid being grounded from the venture.

"But Mooom! That's not fair! You and Dad already said I could go; you can't make me stay home, now!" Tears formed in the corners of Toby's eyes, but his mother refused to back down. The two stared each other down and the two feet separating them seemed a vast, unbridgeable chasm.

Eventually, Toby caved; he knew he would never hear the end of it. Even if his mother followed through on her threats to disallow him to go to Greece that would not mean the fight was over. She would hound him until he divulged everything he knew. _I might as well tell her everything now and then I can still go on the trip. At least, I can tell her _some_ of it. _He sighed heavily and admitted that Sarah had been contacting him secretly for the first few months that she was gone.

"But I haven't heard from her lately, it's been almost three months since I last heard from her. She doesn't seem to answer when I call her. I'm pretty sure she's still ok, though," Toby shrugged.

"You call her?" Karen asked, incredulous that her son was capable of such deception. "So she gave you a phone number when she left? Did she say why she didn't give it to your father and I? Did she explain why it was that she could speak to you but not to her parents?" Karen was close to hysterics; her breath was coming in short gasps and her face was flushed ominously.

"I dunno, Mom. Maybe she thought you two could handle the separation better; that you and Dad were grown ups and so you didn't need to have the same reassurance I did," Toby offered, doing his best to appear innocently shocked at his sister's behavior. "I missed her a lot, you know." He shuffled his feet again, looking abashed.

"Oh, I know darling," Karen soothed, crouching down to comfort her son. "We all do. It's just that sometimes adults need just as much reassurance as you children do. Your father and I aren't as unemotional as you might think. We're very worried about Sarah and it hurts to know that she had the ability to contact us but chose not to."

"I know," Toby mumbled into his mom's shirtsleeve. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize for Sarah's unfeeling behavior, Toby. She made a choice and we have to live with it. I'm just disappointed in her, that's all," Karen replied.

Toby had to bite his tongue to keep from jumping to Sarah's defense. His mother was wrong to think of Sarah so meanly but he knew he was powerless to prevent the conclusions she had drawn. He couldn't give away Sarah's true whereabouts lest he risk her safety as well as Jareth's. _Mom will just have to deal for right now. I can't help it. Sarah is counting on me to keep her secret for her and I won't let her down. _

"Can I have my crystal back, Mom?" Toby asked shyly, keeping his hands behind his back and his face downward so as not to reveal how earnestly he wanted it back. His posture also served the double purpose of making his mother believe he was chagrined for his former behavior and sought to amend it with humility. "I found it and I think it's really pretty. I'd like to keep it. Please."

"I'm not sure I should do that, Toby. I still don't know what it is. I think I ought to show your father before I let you keep it outright." Karen was convinced it was something more than Toby's innocent demeanor made it out to be, something dark and sinister. She was not convinced that she had simply imagined Sarah appearing in the crystal. _I have to find out what Toby is hiding; maybe it will help us understand what happened to Sarah._

"Can't I at least play with it this afternoon? I'll give it to Daddy as soon as he gets home. I promise," Toby opened his eyes wide, and, like Sarah, his mother could not resist his puppy dog eyes and cherubic smile.

"Oh alright. But as _soon_ as your father comes home, I expect to see that thing in his hands and out of your underwear drawer. For heaven's sake Toby, find someplace more decent to put your special things." With a motherly shake of her head and a warning glance, Karen left the room to complete the long-overdue task of getting dinner ready. Robert would be home any second and the pasta needed to get into the oven right away if they were to have supper on time.

When he heard the telltale ring of heels on hardwood, Toby knew that his mother had descended the steps and was making her way to the kitchen. Pushing the door closed behind him, he withdrew the crystal from behind his back and cupped it to his face. What his mother had failed to notice was that while they were speaking, the crystal had begun to pulse softly with white light. Sarah was calling out to him. Eager to see his sister again after the long absence, Toby did not notice that the door had not latched properly and was now slowly creaking open.

"Sarah?" he whispered to the throbbing crystal. "Sarah, it's Toby. I'm here."

"Toby?!" Sarah's voice called out as her face slowly materialized in the heart of the orb. She was speaking so quickly that her words were spilling over each other like waves, "I'm so sorry I haven't spoken to you in so long! So much has happened down here and I really don't know how to begin to explain it. Jareth—"

"Sarah, I know, I know. Jareth contacted me in a dream and he told me he's in trouble—"Toby uttered excitedly.

"No, young man," Robert's voice boomed from the now open doorway. "You're in trouble. _Big_ trouble."

Toby froze at the sound of his father's irate voice. The sound of his door hitting the wall behind it jarred him back to reality and he jumped. From between his benumbed fingers the crystal slipped effortlessly to the floor and shattered into a thousand tiny fragments of light that fizzled into the growing darkness of his bedroom like the last trailing sparks of a fireworks display.

Toby raised a horror-struck face to his father, his empty hands a silent testimony of loss.

**

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Well ladies and gentlemen, Christmas is upon us and in honor of that, I will take a break for the next two days so that I can celebrate the birth of our Savior with my family. I'll be back (hopefully!) on Saturday, but I pray you all have a lovely Christmas! Leave a review if you have time, but I understand if you're busy. :D **

**God bless us, everyone! (kudos to you if you get that reference, by the way)**


	19. The First of Three

**Welcome back! I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and got lots of fun gifts. I hope you're ready for more because I plan on writing like a madwoman in the next few days. There is so much to cover! I hope you enjoy it.**

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Left. Right. Left. Right. One more step. Now another. Come on feet; you can do it. Careful, Sarah, there's a loose rock just up ahead. Whoops, that one's a bid shady as well. Don't put all your weight on it. Damn, will I never reach the edge of these mountains?_

Sarah had been trekking through the crags and peaks of the mountain passes for almost two months. Nothing ever changed. Every morning, the fresh light of dawn brought only more echoes of brown and grey against the backdrop of a pale sky. High above her, the mountain peaks faded into the sky in one giant, hazy blur. The days were similarly filled with ever-new visions of rocky outcroppings mingled with swollen boulders all standing atop a thick bed of shale and silt; dirt clung to her like a second skin and her hair was thick with dust and sweat. Sarah had never believed that so many distinct hues of brown could possibly exist in the world, but every day she found more.

_Let's see,_ Sarah muttered to herself. _There's drab, dull, dingy, dreary, dismal, boring, and let's not forget my personal favorite: muddy brown. Good Lord, I'm naming all the colors of the rocks. _"Baby, I think I might be going crazy," she spoke aloud, placing one hand on her abdomen, now slightly swollen to show the progress of her four-month pregnancy. "We need to find Nona soon or I'm going to start naming the rocks themselves." She let out a humorless laugh and took another plodding step forward.

There was no clean path through the mountains, so Sarah was forced to pick her way purely by her own fallible sense of direction and women's intuition. Her baby helped some—mostly by way of encouraging nudges meant to instill courage, strength and perseverance, like a mental pat on the back. Having her baby around provided her with some company, though she wished dearly that she could speak with Toby again. Her attempts to contact him had met with some success a few months ago, but after a day or so, all communication had stopped. She couldn't even raise up an image of him on her ring. He was gone.

She missed him. Though she had been negligent with regard to communicating regularly before now, she missed even the possibility of speaking to someone other than her unborn child. Being without Jareth made her lonelier than she had been willing to admit. When she had recalled her link with Toby, his voice had staved off that loneliness for another few days. However, when she lost Toby, she had been plunged back into the realization that aside from her baby, she had no one in the entire world to speak to. She was without friends and family, not even Hoggle, Ludo or Didymus—her ever present friends in time of need—could help her here. She teetered on the brink of despair.

_Left. Right. Step up. Step down. Avoid that boulder over to your right, too slippery. Left. Right. Left. Right. Ouch! I shouldn't have put my hands down like that, that stone was sharp. Now I'll have to tear off another bit of my underskirt to dress it. One more delay. _

_I just wish I knew when these mountains would end._

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Sarah slept uneasily that night. Her hand was still throbbing from where she had punctured it on a particularly sharp edge of stone that afternoon. She'd bound it with a strip of cloth from her underskirt and applied pressure quickly to stop the bleeding. However, she had been unable to do anything more and she hoped not to contract an infection. Her body was so covered in bruises and small abrasions that one more cut did little to dull her spirits, but she couldn't afford a more serious injury than she had retained that afternoon.

Not having any form of pain relief other than sheer willpower, Sarah was listless that night and awoke exhausted. Dawn broke as it had every day for the past two months: dimly and without any guarantee of measurable progress before the day closed.

Sarah dragged her way through breakfast sluggishly, not relishing another meal of waybread and scavenged berries. The former was running low after her long trek—she was thankful that the dense bread was created to provide a maximum number of calories per portion, but she had quickly tired of the bland cakes and wished for something more pleasurable to eat.

She supplemented her meals with scavenged roots or berries she found along the trail, but the harvests were few and far between and becoming more so the further into the heart of the mountains she hiked. By now, she could barely remember what the Underground meals tasted like, much less the savory and flavorful dinners her stepmother used to cook. Just thinking about spaghetti with meat sauce or barbequed chicken made her mouth water. She wanted more than anything to sink her teeth into a warm, crusty loaf of sourdough bread with melted butter, but all she had were the hard traveling cakes that tasted vaguely of sesame seeds. Her mouth rebelled against the flavor but she forced herself to swallow.

"Not much I can do about the food you're getting, child," she crooned remorsefully. "We'll just have to make do with what we have and hope we find the first sister soon. Mommy needs a rest."

She rubbed her trail-weary feet and gingerly replaced her black leather boots. Though of good quality, the prolonged hike was beginning to wear away at the tough soles and the leather was beginning to pull away from the shoe bottom in some places. Adding to the strain was the fact that her feet were beginning to swell from pregnancy. She winced as her swollen feet strained against the taut leather. She didn't know how much more her feet could stand to be confined in the tight shoes, but she knew they would fare worse without any protection at all.

Weary from her lack of sleep, Sarah walked the uneven ground of her chosen path slowly. Each step brought fresh pain from her swollen feet and every time she steadied herself with her hands, a piercing pain shot through her arm from her wounded palm. At one point, a loose stone beneath her feet sent her sprawling on her hands and knees. Her injured hand and feet throbbed with fresh agony and for a long moment, she simply crouched near the ground, freshly kicked up dust clogging her lungs. She couldn't move. Trail-weary and aching from head to toe, she could not get her muscles to obey her mental commands to stand.

"I can't go on," she whispered to the ground. "I just can't go on like this. I'm sorry Jareth." Tears formed, but she choked them back to conserve water. She felt her baby move within her, stirring up fresh memories of Jareth: his sneering face the first time they met, the scandalously tight pants he wore during her first journey in the Underground (they had made her blush then, but now she found them quite deliciously attractive), the way his eyes had held hers with barely concealed desire as they danced together in her crystal dream.

She felt the imaginary brush of his fingertips on her face and, in her weariness, she thought she could see him standing over her. Love and mockery mingled in his ghostly smirk, as if taunting her. Her memory supplied an appropriately snide commentary on her current predicament:

"_Turn back, Sarah. Turn back before it's too late." _

"No," she whispered. The shade from her past sneered in reply, his eyebrows arched in cruel condescension. "NO!" she screamed, swatting away the vision with one fierce swipe of her upraised, injured arm.

"I can't turn back now, Jareth. I can't!" Determined not to fail, Sarah pulled herself up from her knees and forced her feet to move forward with a grimace on her face and a fresh fire in her heart.

By mid-afternoon, she caught sight of something up ahead that caused her pulse to race. Amid the steel and mud landscape, something white and yellow beckoned to her from between a stand of boulders. She quickened her pace, fearing it had been another mirage sent to mock her.

Rounding an outcropping of smoke-colored stone, Sarah heaved a relieved sigh and almost broke into tears. In front of her stood the sweetest sight she had ever known: a small white cottage with a thatched roof of straw sat nestled between two large stones. Cheery white smoke curled lazily from the chimney and a delightful smell wafted toward her from the open door.

"This must be Nona's cottage," she whispered reverently. "Oh baby, we've reached the end of the mountains at last!"

Abandoning all formality, Sarah raced up the sloped path with a zeal befitting a sacred pilgrim reaching her shrine. She paused at the door, unsure weather to knock or walk in.

"Come in Sarah Williams, Goblin Queen," a musical voice greeted her from inside the house. "I've been expecting you."

From an open doorway to her left, the delicious smell she'd encountered earlier rolled into the room in fresh, mouth-watering waves. She took a step into the cottage and when her eyes had adjusted to the new level of light, she perceived the back of a young woman seated at a spinning wheel in the far corner of the room. She appeared no older than Sarah herself, though the queen could not see her face, as the other woman's back was to the door. A long plait of golden hair peaked out from beneath a ruffled cap atop the woman's head, falling past her waist to dust the floor beneath where she sat.

"Hello?" Sarah called out when the woman gave no indication of moving. "Are you Nona, the first of the three sisters called the Fates?"

"I am dear child," the woman turned to face her guest; Sarah gasped.

Rather than the fresh, youthful face Sarah expected, Nona's face was deeply lined with age. The wisps of hair peaking out from above her grandmotherly visage were bright white rather than gold and her hands, Sarah noted, were wrinkled and spidery. Blue veins stood out against the papery skin of her wrists and neck; her breasts sagged low on her chest.

Thinking she had not seen the woman correctly from the back, Sarah hastily mumbled an apology for staring to which Nona merely smiled benignly. With a slight chuckle, she replied, "You can't always trust first appearances. The truth is often more than what it seems.

"Come now," she continued, patting Sarah's cheek with her wrinkled hand. "Let's get you something to eat. I bet you're positively famished from all that walking. And I'm certain your baby would like a change from that nasty trail food you've been eating. Come along, come along," she bustled, leading the way into the room with the delightful smell.

Following her host through the doorway to her left, Sarah was again confronted with the straight, toned back of a young woman of her mid-twenties. Nona's golden plait bounced merrily along with her jaunty footsteps and Sarah was once again convinced that her host was no older than she.

_She has the face, hands and chest of a woman of eighty, yet her legs, back and hair fit better with a woman one-fourth that age. How is this possible? It's as if her front side is older than her back side,_ she laughed mentally as she recalled her dear friend the worm's first admonition. _"Nothing is what it seems in this place, so you can't take anything for granted!"_ _I suppose I'll just have to expand my boundaries a bit more. It seems _nothing_ in the Underground is ever what you expect._

"Here we are, child," Nona said, indicating a small, clean table set for two. "I've got some tea ready and a nice fruit tart. I baked it this afternoon," she winked. "As soon as I knew you were coming."

"But, how did you know?" Sarah asked politely, willing herself to accept the unexpected.

"Why, I've known it since the day you were born, child. Now, eat up, no more questions until you've had some nourishment. I can't have you wasting away into nothing when you have such dangerous tasks ahead of you."

Nona fussed and fretted over Sarah during her tea like a proper old hen. When Sarah was completely satisfied—her belly heavy with tea and tart—Nona fetched a homespun blanket from another room and tucked Sarah into an overstuffed chair across from her spinning wheel and sat back down to spin.

Sarah watched with growing fascination as the woman's aged hands and tireless feet manipulated the thread expertly. The glistening strands were made of a fiber Sarah did not recognize, but they were so beautiful that Sarah had to know what was to be their fated shape.

"What are you making?" Sarah queried.

"I'm not sure yet," Nona replied. She did not look up from her work, but neither did her hands miss a single cadence of the spinning wheel of thread while she spoke. "I don't get to decide what becomes of the thread, that is my sisters' charge. My role is to spin, nothing more.

"You have been wondering about my appearance have you not?" Nona asked, deftly changing the subject. "What you see is not an illusion nor is it a trick of light nor a failure of your own senses. I am a living duality, representing the ordinary pattern of human life: the future is before you and the past behind you."

"I think I understand," Sarah replied. "My future is old age, thus your front embodies that future. My past is youth, vitality and freshness; thus your back retains the vigor and strength of a young woman."

"Precisely, my child. Now," Nona declared forcefully, turning from her work to face Sarah fully. "What is it you need from me, Sarah Williams? Will you ask of me what you came for or do you wish merely for idle women's chatter?"

"How do you know that I want something? Nevermind, I don't need to know that," Sarah concluded with a shake of her head. Nona smiled but remained silent for Sarah to continue. "I do need something from you. I don't know why it is important, but…" Sarah paused, fixing Nona with a determined gaze. "I need your distaff.

I don't wish to take away your only means of spending your time, especially if your work is important, but I need it. I have to save my husband and this is the only way."

"I understand," Nona replied. She laid an affectionate hand on Sarah's knee but her next words were firm. "However, you can't get something for nothing, child."

Sarah thought for a second, "An exchange?"

The older woman nodded gravely, "But you cannot offer anything in exchange. What you ask from me is the most important thing I possess; you must offer something of equal value."

Sarah looked away, racking her brain to come up with something she could offer Nona that would be of equivalent value. Her shoes and clothing were important for her travels, but not important enough. A fraying, dirty gown and shoes bursting at the seams were hardly the types of items Nona was after, but what else did she have? Her pack? No, that wouldn't do.

She reached up absentmindedly to tuck a wayward strand of her dark hair behind her ear. Her fingers brushed against something cool and hard: her crown. In that one second, her choice was made.

"My crown." Sarah uncoiled her hair, gingerly removed the circlet from the ebony waves, and held it forth. "This is the symbol of my honor and status among the kingdoms of the Underground and thus one of my greatest possessions. It is all I have to offer you. Will you take it in exchange for your distaff?"

Nona took the glittering coronet in her aged hands, turning it this way and that to examine its authenticity and value. After a few minutes, she placed it deftly in her lap and fixed her gaze on Sarah's anxious face.

"I will accept your crown, Sarah Williams; it is both a fitting and fair exchange." Reaching behind her, Nona dislocated the distaff from her spinning wheel and passed it to Sarah, bowing her head in deference. "I pray this serves you well, Goblin Queen."

"Thank you," Sarah replied with an answering bow of respect for her host. She stared at the wooden pole in her hand and the silken thread wrapped about it; she again wondered what Nona had been making and hoped her request had not inconvenienced her too much. If so, it couldn't be helped; Sarah believed her need was the greater. Her baby moved within her, sending a wave of hope and Sarah took heart. One item was secured; she need only cross the other three barriers and secure two more. Then, she would have all she needed to gain immortality and rescue Jareth.

"Oh my!" Nona exclaimed suddenly. "Night is upon us, dear child and you cannot go further tonight. Please, accept my hospitality and stay with me this night. It has been so long since I have had a visitor—I would relish the company."

"I suppose I can't go anywhere else tonight," Sarah concurred, glancing out the open window to see that utter darkness had fallen around the little cottage. The thought of a warm bed and real food instead of her camping gear beckoned to Sarah's weary body. She yawned. "I am sleepy," she admitted. "If it isn't too much trouble…"

"Of course it isn't," Nona retorted, her laugh lines wrinkled around her mouth and eyes in amusement. "No trouble at all. Like I said, I would be delighted to have some company for dinner, though we best eat soon or you'll fall asleep in your plate. I have some nice, hearty soup I can warm for you over the fire and there's a loaf of fresh bread in the larder. Now you just sit here and I'll make everything ready. Put your feet up and rest, my dear. You need it."

True to her word, Nona prepared a meal that was both delicious and filing. Sarah thought she had never had a more delightful meal in her life. But the warm heaviness of soup and bread in her stomach soon made her drowsy and Sarah soon found herself tucked into a soft, comfortable bed at the back of the house. A low fire flickered in the grate, so the room was nice and cozy. Nona piled blankets atop Sarah's prone form and tucked her in gently, like a mother her child.

Almost unwillingly, Sarah found her eyes drooping heavily with much-needed sleep. Within seconds of getting into bed, she was fast asleep and dreaming of Jareth.

"Sleep well, Goblin Queen," Nona whispered softly, smoothing back Sarah's hair tenderly. "You have come far, but you still have far to go. Do you yet perceive it? No, I fear you do not understand all that you will have to give up in order that your husband may return safely to your side. Such a heavy burden to bear and a large price to pay for such a young child as you." Nona clucked her tongue regretfully, "And yet, I have foreseen this. The end of your life is still in doubt, but the road you take can lead to nothing but death."

And as Nona left the room to return to her spinning wheel (having obtained a new distaff from her work room), she muttered into her thread, "She is so young. Such a pity."

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I'm off to take my hubby to the airport; he's flying back home today because he has to work :( But I'll still be out here visiting with my family for another few days, so I'll have a lot more time without him to distract me ;) Please leave a review if you have the time. I'll be back soon! **

**(P.S. Thanks to all of you who left me a review before Christmas. You are the **_**best!**_**)**


	20. Abyss

**More Sarah! Yay! I'm sorry if any of you think this is moving kind of slowly, I'm not sure if it is a good pace or not, let me know in the reviews what you think. Enjoy!**

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Sarah stared down into the unfathomable abyss from the dizzying heights and almost blacked out. She took a few steps back from the edge of the precipice and sat down; the altitude made it difficult for her to breathe and the shock of almost walking off a cliff to her certain death made her giddy. She tried to take another breath, choked on it, and was immediately seized by a violent coughing fit.

With regret, she recalled the warm pile of blankets and delicious food she had left behind at Nona's cottage that morning. For the first time in months her sleep had been deep and sweet, filled with hauntingly beautiful dreams of Jareth singing to her, holding her, touching her—it sent shivers down her spine just to think of them. Her heart ached at the thought of his passionate kisses pressed urgently against her neck and face; her whole body was hot and she wanted more than anything to have him here with her. It hardly mattered that the ground beneath them would be unforgiving stone; the Goblin King could transform the least palatable of surroundings to a heavenly retreat with one flick of his long, powerful fingers.

Sarah forced herself to calm down: her face was flushed and her heart was racing with desire. She couldn't give in to fantasy and dreaming when Jareth _was_ alive somewhere and in very great need of her.

"He needs me awake, aware and thinking clearly. No matter how beautiful my dreams are—and they were the most wonderful dreams of my life," she added wistfully, her voice faint with yearning. "Oh Jareth, how can I live without you? Even if you're gone you still haunt my dreams as you did so long ago."

Laughing softly at the irony, Sarah soliloquized at length, "When I was a teenager, you were the villain in my dreams. You used to haunt my nights with terror and taunt me with the failure I might have been. I hated you, hated what you represented to me. You were a reflection of my selfish, arrogant, cruel heart—a heart that cared more for being safe and comfortable than for actually loving another human being, especially one it considered an inconvenience.

"But then I grew up and I realized how much I actually loved you. You fascinated me, thrilled me with your power and strength. No other man in my life has ever been able to stand up to challenge me and fight me with such perseverance as you, Jareth. I've always been a strong woman," she chuckled wryly, "I suppose I get that from my mother. My dad used to say that I could stare down the devil himself without fear if he had something I wanted. Little did he know that I one day might actually have the opportunity to do so.

"And you, with your sneering condescension and begrudging admiration, you defied all convention and dared to call me out for my behavior. You called me a child and mocked my sense of justice and equity. You turned my world upside down for your own amusement and then threw it back in my face.

"Yet, through all of it, you loved me. You have since showed me that you acted in accordance with your own feelings of affection, nay, even love for me. I could not understand it. You made no sense in my world; no man before or since had ever had the courage to confront me head on with his love and use it as a means of pointing out my own flaws so that I might better myself. You may not know it, beloved, but I have bettered myself for your sake. I am the woman you married because you loved me enough to teach me that I needed to grow and change if I was to learn to love you in return.

"And now, the greatest irony of them all: you have not stopped haunting me. Even now I dream of you, though it is with far pleasanter results I assure you," she raised her eyebrow suggestively at her invisible conversation partner. "Almost eight years later and I still can't keep you out. You invade my very being with your arrogant smile and unconquerable spirit. For, despite the fact that I defeated your Labyrinth, I was still never quite convinced that I truly defeated you. It was too easy; your body and mind may have acquiesced, but your spirit is too strong to ever give in. Even now I imagine you are fighting and defying your way through the Underworld, driving everyone mad with your rebellious smile and cool mismatched blue eyes. If you could charm and trick your way out of there, I have no doubt you would."

Sarah laughed lightly at the imagined antics of her beloved Goblin King, but her laughter soon died. The wide grin on her face replaced with a furrowed brow, her lips set in a grim line. "But you can't do that, can you Jareth? They tell me I am your only hope to escape from the terrible prison you inhabit. No matter how lovely my dreams are, in the end, they are just that: dreams. Memories may bring back the Jareth I _knew_, but they will not return you, the Jareth I love now, from Erebus. The irony of my love for you will not raise you from the dead nor will my admission of it. Instead of speaking to the wind, I must complete my quest so that I can speak these things to _your_ ears rather than to mine alone. How you'd laugh at me if you could see me sitting here, waxing eloquent with reminiscence when there's work to be done. I might as well be lost in one of your spells."

"Now then," she said, her voice laced with determination and defiance, "I've got to find a way over, under or around this chasm."

Taking stock of her position, Sarah shifted her weight and placed her hands on the ground to push herself up and onto her feet. Using the rocks for handholds, Sarah pulled herself to a standing position and immediately regretted it. She felt lightheaded; tiny flecks of light winked in and out of her field of vision and her head spun dizzily.

Grasping the wall of rock behind her to steady herself, Sarah inched her way back further from the edge of the precipice. Her stomach lurched and she could feel her breakfast rebelling against its captivity. She took another few steps back, kneeled down and retched into the dust. She vomited until her stomach was empty; yet even afterward her muscles continued to heave, though nothing came out.

She felt horrible and any thought of continuing her travels that day was out of the question. _I have to get back to Nona_, she concluded, but accomplishing the undertaking was far more difficult than the thought.

She stood slowly to her feet; her head swam dangerously, but she held onto the rocks for support. Ever so slowly, she inched her way back down the trail to Nona's cottage, pausing every few steps to allow her roiling stomach to rebel emptily before continuing. It took her twice the time to return from the precipice as it had to reach it that morning and she arrived shortly before midday.

Exhausted, she collapsed on the front path and barely had enough energy to cry out to Nona before her body finally gave out and she fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

When Sarah awoke, it was to the sound of Nona humming sweetly in the next room. She felt the soft pillow under her head and the warm weight of blankets piled high and she groaned in satisfaction. She tried to sit up. Her head throbbed and the room swam before her eyes; her stomach twisted in warning and she immediately laid back down to avoid getting sick again.

The humming grew louder and Nona's wrinkled face popped around the doorjamb cheerily. "Awake are we? You certainly did have me worried there for a while. Collapsing on my front stoop, _tsk tsk_, Sarah Williams. Don't you have any manners?" The broad grin on Nona's face communicated harmless mirth rather than rancor and Sarah smiled weakly in response.

"I see you've tried to get up," the old woman continued, clucking her tongue reprovingly and hastily tucking Sarah back under the covers completely as if she were a child ignorant of her own wellbeing. "Therefore I'm certain you've realized just how unwise that is right now. You're quite unwell Goblin Queen and you best lie abed until you've mended properly."

"How long?" Sarah rasped, her voice hoarse from retching.

"I don't know, child. At least a week at this point," Nona concluded, taking a seat in a rocking chair near the fire and stirring up the dying coals to relight it.

"A week?!" Sarah shouted, her voice cracking indecorously. "How can I stay here a week? I can't afford any delays!"

Nona shrugged, "You can't argue with your body Sarah and right now your body, and your baby, are telling you that you need rest."

"What does my baby have to do with this?"

"Haven't you ever heard of child sickness? I believe in your world it is called 'morning sickness,' though I could never fathom why because it doesn't always happen in the morning. Oh well, another one of your confusing human nomenclatures I'm sure," Nona mused.

"Sure I've heard of it, but it usually only affects women in the first part of their pregnancy, the first trimester we call it," Sarah retorted defensively, irked that Nona spoke so patronizingly of human culture. "I'm already past my first trimester now, so I shouldn't be getting morning sickness now since I didn't get it earlier."

"That is true of human pregnancies, but your child is not fully human; it is also of one-half titan descent and therefore your pregnancy will not always follow the typical human pattern," Nona rose from her chair and moved to kneel by Sarah's bed. Pulling back the covers, she placed both hands on Sarah's belly and closed her eyes. Gently and swiftly, Nona massaged Sarah's abdomen—to what purpose, Sarah was uncertain.

Finally, after a few minutes of Nona's probing, the old woman straitened, her golden braid swinging incongruously behind her aged face. She was somber, her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes downcast.

"What is it?" Sarah whispered as the icy grasp of fear seized her heart.

"Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary," Nona proclaimed jubilantly, her somber face transformed into a bright smile. Seeing Sarah's shocked expression she burst into bell-like peals of laughter that echoed throughout the chamber.

"Oh _my,_ child! You should see your expression!" Nona tittered.

"_What the hell did you do that for?_" Sarah fumed. She attempted to sit up in her bed, but another dizzy spell sent her flat on her back once more, doubling her fury at her own helplessness.

"My dear Sarah, you must not be so _serious_ all the time! You are so filled with fear, worry and anxiety that you will miss the joy of the journey before you. I did not mean to anger you, but I did intend for you to learn a lesson: do not be ruled by fear, Goblin Queen. In this world you now inhabit, there is much you do not understand, much that you could allow to frighten you and thereby paralyze you. That would be unhealthy and unwise," Nona cleared her throat and continued. "Take your child, for instance. You fear what you do not understand about your pregnancy. You expect what you know—a typical _human_ pregnancy—but as I have said, this is not an ordinary human child that you carry. When faced with something you do not understand, you allow anxiety, not wisdom, to rule your mind. You must not allow this to continue, else you will fail in your mission."

"So there is nothing wrong with me or my baby?" Sarah asked in a subdued tone, her anger dissolved by Nona's reprimands.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, as I said," Nona soothed. She placed her spidery hands atop Sarah's in grandmotherly affection. "What you are experiencing is quite normal for a titan pregnancy. Underground women are far more likely to experience sickness later on in their pregnancies rather than earlier. The violence of your own sickness is in part also due to the weakened state your body is experiencing because of your harsh travels. I recommend that you stay and rest while your body recovers and adjusts to the thin, clean mountain air."

"I don't have much choice do I?" Sarah retorted with a sly wink in Nona's direction. "I can't really travel when I'm vomiting all over the place can I? Walk through the mountains? Hell, I can't even sit up in bed." Sarah gave a wry laugh that threw her body into dry heaves for the next few minutes.

"I guess I can't laugh either," she moaned into the chamber pot reserved for her sickness.

"It will pass, child. It will pass," Nona murmured softly, rubbing Sarah's back as she bent over the side of the bed. "Would you like me to fetch you some broth or tea? I have many good recipes for upset stomachs."

Sarah nodded without speaking, concerned that any vocalization might send her right back over the side of the bed.

"I'll be right back, then. Perhaps I can also tell you a story. I know plenty. Would you like that?"

Again, Sarah nodded, closing her eyes to the spinning walls and ceiling of her sickroom.

"Very well," Nona whispered. "I can bring my spinning in here by the fire."

* * *

True to her word, Nona nursed Sarah with hearty broth and an herbal tea specially formulated to combat 'child sickness' as she called it. Sarah thought it tasted horrid—like licorice and mint with a dash of raspberry and milk-thistle—but it did calm her stomach enough to allow her to eat the broth without fear of being sick. The initial diagnosis of a week-long stay turned into two weeks and soon, before Sarah was truly aware of it, a whole month had gone by in Nona's cottage and she had yet to leave her bed.

Throughout her stay, Nona regaled her with stories while spinning yards and yards of the silvery-white thread by the fire—Sarah thought she must have completed at least twenty spools of the stuff by the time the month was up. Sarah was glad for her company and, comforted that she had not stolen away Nona's only distaff, she allowed her mind to rest at ease and listen eagerly to the tales Nona related daily.

Some were familiar to her through myths and legends—the labors of Heracles, Achilles and his eponymous heel, Helen of Troy and Eris' infamous golden apple. Yet Nona told them as if they were true and despite her skeptical upbringing, Sarah found herself believing them.

_After all,_ she told herself. _If the Underground is real, whose to say what is and isn't true anymore? Why _can't_ the Greek myths I learned as a child be true? They're no more fantastic than I thought the Underground was when I was a teenager and yet, here I am, Queen of the Goblin Kingdom and married to a king banished to the Underworld. Indeed, nothing is impossible._

Nona also told her tales of a more personal nature. She told Sarah about her long-lost mother, Linda—who she was, what she was like and how she had met and married Sarah's father, Robert. These stories were hard for Sarah to hear, but as she was confined to her bed, she had no choice but to hear them; moreover, she trusted Nona, believing that she would not tell her anything that she was not strong enough to hear and accept.

Thus it was that after years of not hearing from her mother, Sarah discovered that Linda now resided in Los Angeles with her live-in boyfriend Mark. Too old to continue her career as an actress, Sarah learned that her mother now worked as a director for stage plays and was actually quite well-known in the acting community. However, Nona was also careful to explain that Linda had left her husband and child because she thought it was the best thing for the family. She had loved her daughter, but her wild, dramatic spirit had often clashed with Robert's more sensible nature and the two had swiftly realized that they could not continue to be married. So Linda had moved out west and started a new life while Robert raised Sarah and eventually remarried. Sarah allowed the information to wash over her and for a brief moment, the sadness of knowing that her mother was alive, yet did not wish to contact her, weighed on her heart.

Sensing the emotional turmoil in her audience, Nona paused to allow Sarah to face her grief in peace. The sorrow did not last long. Sarah faced the truth of her mother, accepted it without guilt or remonstrance, and gently forced herself to move on.

"My mother has not been part of my life for a long time, now," Sarah admitted aloud, speaking to no one in particular. "I think I've always known that she loved me, yet I also knew that she was not particularly interested in me or my life. Deep down, I've always known both those things were true but I've never had to face them together. I see them both now, yet I also see that I cannot allow the hurt to burden me needlessly. Pain over my estranged mother does not help me win Jareth back."

"But it is the truth about you and about your mother, so you must accept it," Nona added.

Sarah nodded. "I accept it, but I will not allow it to have power over me."

"Good girl," Nona whispered so quietly Sarah did not hear. "You've made the right choice." Raising her voice to a level Sarah could hear, Nona asked, "Now, would you like to hear more about Linda or would you like to hear something else?"

"Something else, please, I think," Sarah answered, her tone and spirit subdued.

So Nona turned the topic to one even more personal: Sarah herself. With maternal affection and tenderness, she retold for Sarah's eager ears the stories of her birth and early life. Memories long dead or forgotten reawakened in Sarah's consciousness: her mother's green eyes filled with love, her first snowman attempt—accomplished only with her father's help—and the snowball fight that ensued afterward. The day her mother brought home Merlin from the pet store to keep Sarah company as the only child. She'd seen the scruffy little pup in the store window and immediately fell in love with him; so, she brought him home under the guise of providing a companion for Sarah but truly it was to satisfy her own lovelorn heart.

Nona regaled her with stories of numerous firsts—her first lost tooth, her first day of school, first friend, first bike ride, first crush (Timmy Johnson, the little red-haired boy who sat next to her in kindergarten). She reminded Sarah of the day her father came home and told her, "Mommy loves you, but she has to leave. She and Daddy still love _you_, but we don't love each other any more, so we're not going to live together. We still love you, Sarah, and this is not your fault." Tears welled up in her eyes at the memory and instead of wiping them away, she let the liquid sadness roll down her cheeks and onto her pillow.

But Nona didn't stop there. She retold Sarah's entire life story for her from birth up to the present. Hour after hour she sat by the fire, spun her thread, and told Sarah the story of her life, rising only to help Sarah to the bathroom or fix her more meals of tea and broth. By the time Nona was finished, Sarah was completely mended and ready to travel.

* * *

Now a little over a month delayed in her journey, Sarah was eager to leave. However, in the month she lay sick, she had grown fond of her hostess and her alternately youthful and mature interactions. She joked, laughed and teased Sarah like a friend her own age, but nurtured, chastised and told stories like a proper grandmother.

As Sarah stood at the door of the cottage, looking out over the sloped path down to her mountainous route, Sarah's heart swelled with love for the old woman. Nona was mother, grandmother and friend to her; in her the playfulness of youth balanced perfectly with the wisdom of age and Sarah felt a deep-seated longing to have that same balance in her own life.

"You need not be so wistful, my child," Nona said from her perch by the spinning wheel, reading her thoughts with surprising accuracy. "I am but a pattern that you may choose to imitate and follow if you wish. Joy and wisdom are not contradictory and should you seek to attain both, you must commit yourself to cultivate them every day of your life."

"I will," Sarah pronounced and, taking her first step out the door and onto her chosen path, she committed herself again to her task and focused on rescuing her beloved King.

"And remember, Goblin Queen," Nona shouted to Sarah's receding back. "Don't take yourself so seriously!"

**

* * *

Sarah's back on track again! I hope you liked it. Again, if you think the pace is too slow or anything of that sort feel free to let me know by leaving a review. I hope you all are enjoying your vacation (if you have one) and I hope to get another chapter up soon.**


	21. To Soar on Eagle's Wings

**It feels so good to be able to get so much writing done. I wish I didn't have to go back to work next week so that I could spend all my time writing, all day long. That would be the life! Anyhoodle, enjoy!**

* * *

Back at the precipice, Sarah took another steadying breath as she stared down the sheer wall of the cliff into the seemingly endless black hole below. Her stomach did an unwelcome somersault and swan-dived down to her boots. Thankfully, she was past her sickness so the roller-coaster ride her insides were on did not send her heaving to the ground.

Walking first one direction, then the next along the side of the gorge, Sarah could find no path downward—not that she wanted to go _into_ the chasm, but it might have provided a way _out_ on the other side. Nor could she find a bridge across the void, for even when she attempted to see the opposite side, a hazy cloud of mists obscured her vision. There seemed to be no way across on foot and she had no way of knowing how wide the yawning chasm truly was.

"Gaaah!" she cried out in frustration. She sat down forcibly on the ground, kicking up a loose cloud of dust that she then choked on. She reached for her leather water flask—Nona had been kind enough to refill it for her that morning before she left—and drank deeply to wash the taste of dust and grit out of her mouth. Staring out at the ever-shifting haze hovering over the abyss, Sarah wished briefly that she could simply fly or jump across the whole thing.

"If only I had wings," she sighed. A melancholy groan slipped out as she rested her head against the rock. "That seems to be the only reasonable way to get across the damn thing. Nona couldn't help me, so I'm left to my own devices this time. And of course, as the barrier of air, the only way to get across is to fly."

She placed a hand on her protruding stomach and crooned comfortingly to her baby, "If only you had magic and could help mommy get across. Oh well, we'll just have to find some way to _make_ wings, since we don't have any of our own." Sarah stood up, supporting her back with one hand while reaching the other out to brace herself—and her expanding girth—on the nearby rocks. "Maybe I can find some branches or something around here that could help—"

Before she could finish her sentence, a loud screech rent the air above her head. Sarah looked up to see a large eagle circling the shelter of rocks where she stood. It appeared to see her, for it let out another harsh shriek and began to descend closer.

Fearful that the predatory bird had malicious intent, Sarah immediately backed against the rock wall, covering her abdomen with both her arms to protect her unborn child. Letting out one last shrill cry, the eagle landed a few feet away and cocked its head questioningly in her direction. It seemed harmless enough, its expression more curious than hostile, but Sarah couldn't be sure, so she maintained her defensive posture.

At a stalemate, the two beings stared unmoving across the limited space of Sarah's chosen shelter. The eagle was huge, dominating her limited field of vision and almost filling up half of the surrounding space. It stood far taller than Sarah herself—she guessed it to be roughly eight feet tall when it stood straight. She eyed the sharp talons and wickedly curved beak and shuddered; the thought of being on the receiving end of an attack from the bird almost made her sick to her stomach.

The giant bird cocked its head and let out a low, soothing trill. Bending its neck forward, it leaned a few feet closer to Sarah as if to communicate a desire for friendship rather than harm. Still wary, Sarah did no more than relax her shoulders and readjust her arms around her belly. She wanted so badly for the eagle to be a friend, but she was wary of the misleading nature of creatures in the Underground.

A higher, softer cry echoed above her head and Sarah instinctively looked up. Not far above where she and the eagle sat entrenched a smaller eagle—a near duplicate of the larger—flew in a low, downward spiral toward her. It landed on a rock within a few inches of where she crouched and chirped happily at her, hopping jubilantly on the rock and craning its neck toward her in greeting. It was much smaller than the adult bird—a mere three feet tall Sarah guessed—so Sarah surmised that it was the other bird's baby. When it ceased its joyful dance, Sarah could dimly perceive crisscrossing silver scars on its belly and face.

"Oh!" she cried as a memory from a few months ago forced its way to the forefront of her mind. "You're the eaglet I saved from the thorn bush, aren't you?"

The bird trilled happily and bobbed its head excitedly in affirmation. Now certain that she was not in any danger from the eagles, Sarah took a few steps toward the excited eaglet and ruffled its feathers affectionately. Crooning under her tender ministrations, the eaglet butted its head up against her hand to secure her continued attention. It nipped her fingers gently, the closest it could manage to a kiss.

After a few minutes, the eaglet paused to turn toward its mother, chirruping eagerly and with great force. The mother bent her head over her child and the two whistled and chirped to each other softly, fixing one eye on Sarah every few seconds. She realized that she must be the object of their furtive discussion and she turned her attention elsewhere to give them at least a semblance of privacy, even if she could not understand what they were speaking of. The scene reminded Sarah so much of two friends telling secrets to each other in front of someone else that it made Sarah laugh.

After a prolonged conversation with many a furtive glance in her direction and the sharp clacking of beaks and tongues, the eagles seemed to reach a decision. The eaglet hopped awkwardly to Sarah and began alternately tugging gently on her dress and nudging her with its beak in the direction of the mother.

"I suppose you want me to go to your mother?" she asked politely.

The eaglet trilled an incomprehensible reply, but Sarah took it as assent. She walked to the mother eagle and bowed reverently in greeting.

"I'm not sure what to say, but it is a pleasure to meet you," Sarah greeted.

The mother eagle bowed her head and nudged Sarah's shoulder. Though the action was gentle, the eagle's touch was powerful enough to force Sarah to take a step backward to avoid falling over.

"I'll take that as a 'you too,' I suppose." Sarah concluded and rubbed the mother eagles' beak softly.

Suddenly, the mother eagle dropped to her belly and spread her wings wide. So large was her wingspan that she barely fit in the space they occupied. Confused, Sarah stood still and waited to see what was happening. From behind her, the eaglet nudged her again, propelling her toward the mother eagle's outstretched wings.

When the baby eagle had successfully maneuvered Sarah to stand next to the mother's sloped back, it began to chirrup wildly, touching Sarah's leg with its beak and then pointing toward its mother. The mother looked back over her shoulder and let out a few encouraging trills but Sarah remained ignorant of their intent.

Exasperated at Sarah's lack of understanding, the eaglet chirped reprovingly and hopped up on its mother's back, shrieking and flapping its wings wildly.

"Oh, I see!" Sarah exclaimed, comprehension finally winning out over ignorance. "How stupid of me not to see it! You want me to climb on her back!"

The eaglet bobbed its head once in assent and hopped down from its mother's back. Laboriously, Sarah clambered her way to a sitting position atop the mother eagle's spacious back. She felt a tap from behind and turned to see the eaglet behind her. Gently but insistently, the eaglet prodded her to a prone position—her legs spread out across the mother eagle's back and her arms wrapped tightly about her neck. Her protruding belly was a bit of a discomfort so she maneuvered her body to a slightly curved position so that she wasn't lying directly atop her baby.

The eaglet chirped a final word of encouragement to the awkwardly splayed Goblin Queen, hopped down from atop its mother and the two birds prepared for take off. With a forceful thrust of wings and a whirlwind of dust, the mother and child took off from their perch atop the mountainous precipice.

Sarah closed her eyes tightly and clung on for dear life. The wind whipped about her face and buffeted her small frame, but no matter how hard it blew, she was never in any danger of falling off. The mother eagle's movements were as gentle and natural as the lapping of waves on a lakeshore. Sarah even dared open her eyes and peek over the eagle's shoulder to spy out the land beneath her. She immediately regretted the decision, for the black chasm sat below them like the gaping maw of a bloodthirsty bear, ready to consume her body should she make one false move in any direction.

The eagle's wings settled into a regular, rhythmic motion that lulled Sarah into drowsiness. She could hear the crystal clear cries of the eaglet as it swooped, dove and soared jubilantly in the wind. Every so often it would fly close enough for Sarah to feel the weight of the wind it churned up with its wings. At those times, it would trill a comforting song to Sarah before zooming off to play again in the sky.

Sarah could not tell how long it took for them to fly across the chasm, but she guessed it was at least an hour, if not two. She wondered at the strength and stamina of her mount that she could soar so gracefully across so wide a gap without tiring—and with a burden on her back.

But before long, Sarah began to feel the pressure difference that signaled their descent to the other side. Shifting her weight to assist in the movement necessary for landing, Sarah braced herself for impact, yet much to her surprise, the landing was far less forceful than she had anticipated. Indeed, she hardly realized they had landed until an excited squawking alerted her to the nearby presence of the baby eagle trying to gain her attention. Opening her eyes, she saw that they had landed on soft, smooth turf a few dozen yards from the ledge opposite the one she came from.

Amazed at her good fortune, Sarah slid down the eagle's back eagerly. However, she misjudged her speed and when her feet hit the ground, she fell back on her bottom with a grunt. The eagles both clucked merrily, obviously enjoying her clumsiness. Rather than being angry at their mirth, Sarah found herself joining in; her own peals of laughter combining with their musical cries in a chorus of good-natured, interspecies laughter.

Taking a quick swig from her water flask, Sarah stood unsteadily to her feet. Her airborne travels had made her a bit wobbly, but a firm, feathered head pressed up against her hand to steady her. Eager for more affection, the eaglet rubbed against her urgently and Sarah acquiesced to its demands willingly.

Though sad to leave her feathered friends, Sarah knew she couldn't linger any longer on the heights but must find her way to Decima's cottage before nightfall else risk another night in an unknown land. "I'm sorry to leave you both," she assured them. "But I am ever so grateful for your help. Without you, I could never have made it across that abysmal canyon. Thank you; a thousand times, thank you."

Though they shared no common language, Sarah had the distinct feeling that the birds comprehended her profuse gratitude. Understanding glimmered in their golden eyes and both bowed their heads deeply in response, as if to say, "you're welcome." And with one final trill from their glorious beaks, the two eagles soared into the air and back over the ravine, leaving Sarah to traverse the rambling plains and hillocks of her new environment.

* * *

By late afternoon, Sarah arrived at a strange cottage she assumed to belong to the second of the three sisters—Decima by name, from whom she sought to retrieve her lifethread. There were no other structures in sight, so despite the odd appearance, Sarah had no other choice but to conclude that this home was her intended goal. It looked very little like the home she had so recently departed from. Nona's cottage had been set back amid a cluster of boulders whereas this cottage was located on a broad plain near a riverbank. Furthermore, rather than sitting on the floodplain directly, it had been built up on stilts to keep the water from flooding it during heavy rains.

Nona's cottage was quaint, having about it the air of a mountain retreat to which one would go to escape the world. Decima's home was more imposing, unreachable—the ivory tower of an incurable recluse. Nona had left her front door flung wide, inviting visitors to stay, rest and enjoy the warmth and comfort of her companionship. Try as she might, Sarah could not locate a door of any kind on Decima's cottage, leading her to believe that this sister was disinclined to receive uninvited guests.

She walked around the structure ten times, investigating any and every piece of word from a distance to discover a means of entry. None presented itself. The stilted home appeared to lack an entrance of any sort; for, not only did it lack a door, there were no windows either.

Moreover, even if there had been a window, Sarah would never have been able to reach it. The structure stood at least fifteen, if not twenty feet off the ground and there was neither stairway nor ladder leading up to it. It looked to all intents and purposes as if there were no way to get in.

Frustrated, she decided to take a break from examining the house up close in order to survey it from a distance. Perhaps a new perspective might open her eyes to what she was obviously missing. Sarah chose a spot atop a small hill roughly a hundred feet away. In a flash of inspiration, she recalled Hoggle's instructions to her when she had difficulty getting into the Labyrinth.

"Perhaps I just need to ask the right questions," Sarah murmured hopefully. Moving a bit closer to her target, Sarah set about following Hoggle's advice. "Ok. How do I get into Decima's house?"

A small breeze rustled through the tall grasses at her feet and teased a few strands of her ebony hair. The house remained unchanged.

"Hmmm, that's not it then," she mused. "How about this: where is the door to Decima's house?"

Nothing.

"Where do I get in?" Nothing.

"How am I supposed to speak with Decima?" Still nothing.

"Decima? Are you there? I need to get in and talk to you!" Not even a whisper of sound or movement came from the entry-less house.

"Dammit! What am I supposed to do to get in?" Sarah screamed in frustration. She kicked angrily at the grass and succeeded in uprooting a delicate plant with blue and purple flowers, but she received no response from the desolate house.

By now, it was growing dark and Sarah realized that unless she found shelter soon, she would be forced to stay the night in the grass beneath the house. Not relishing the idea of sleeping nearby or under a house propped so precariously on stilts (no matter how sturdy it appeared to be) Sarah hiked downriver a ways to a small stand of trees overhanging the riverbank. They were similar in form and color to weeping willows and their trailing, leafy branches provided more than adequate protection from the wind. A second advantage to her chosen shelter was that it was near enough to the river that she could both bathe and retrieve drinking water should either be necessary.

Unexpectedly tired, Sarah prepared and ate a hasty meal of food provided by Nona, unrolled her bedroll and settled in for the night.

* * *

Late that night—Sarah could not be certain of the time—a soft scratching sound coming from nearby woke her from sleep. _It doesn't sound like anything dangerous—like a bear or wolf or something else predatory. It must be some critter rattling around in the tree. Nothing to worry about, I can disregard it and go back to bed. _

Determined to ignore the interruption, Sarah rolled over and closed her eyes tightly against the world. The scratching sound came again, this time louder, more insistent. Try as she might, she could not ignore the noise. No matter which way she turned, she could still hear it. Annoyed, she sat up and looked about by the light of the banked coals from her cook-fire. She saw nothing in her immediate vicinity and the noise had stopped, so she lay back down in her bedroll, hoping she had heard the last of her nightly visitor.

Something heavy landed on her bedroll with a soft _whumph_ and Sarah sat bolt upright in bed. In the dim light, she could barely make out the pointed tufts and triangular shape of a feline crouched low on her lap. A long tail flicked ominously in the angry glow of the coals. She reached stealthily for her pack, searching blindly for anything that might ward off her unknown assailant, but a familiar purr coming from the dark shape arrested her attention.

"Sphinx?" She guessed aloud, voicing the hunch that had begun to form in her mind.

"Yes, dear Sarah," the unique hiss Sarah had noted on her previous conversation with the cat verified the speaker's self-identification. "I'm sorry to have to startle you in this way, but you are a very difficult person to wake. You seemed bent on ignoring me."

"That was you making the scratching noises, then." Sarah averred.

"Indeed," the Sphinx replied with a faint twitch of her tail. "Though they did nothing to gain your attention."

"Sorry." The Sphinx flinched in what Sarah surmised was the feline equivalent to a shrug.

"Um, do you mind if I try to relight the fire? It's difficult talking to someone you can't see very well," Sarah stated matter-of-factly. "I know cats are supposed to have very good night vision and all that, but I'm afraid humans don't share that particular gift. I'd rather not talk to a shapeless blur if I can help it."

The Sphinx leapt gracefully from Sarah's lap and took up a perch across from her on a half-buried root from the willow tree. In almost no time at all, Sarah and the Sphinx were staring at each other across a cheery fire that crackled and snapped merrily in the silence.

"So," Sarah began. "How did you get across the abyss?"

The Sphinx made no reply other than to swish her tail nonchalantly. Sarah detected the ghost of a smile on her furry face but could not comprehend the secrets that lay behind it.

"Having trouble getting into Decima's house?" The Sphinx queried after another long silence in which they both stared fixedly at the fire.

Sarah exhaled a discouraged sigh, "No matter what I do or ask, I can't see any way to get into that house."

"You're just not looking right, Sarah Williams," the Sphinx retorted lazily, swatting at a wayward spark with one of her forepaws.

"I _am_ looking! I'm looking harder at that house than I've looked at anything in my entire life!" Sarah insisted.

"Maybe that's the problem," answered the Sphinx, her face enigmatic.

"What do you mean, 'that's the problem'? The problem isn't that I'm looking; it's that there isn't anything to _see_!"

"That, Goblin Queen, is _your_ opinion and one that doesn't seem to be getting you anywhere. Perhaps you should consider revising it."

"Revising it to what, might I ask?" Sarah flung back. "You're no help to me at all with your enigmatic questions and even more complicated answers that really don't answer anything. No wonder the ancients used to find you so frustrating! You never give a straight answer to the questions that most need answering!"

The Sphinx made no reply other than to fix Sarah with another inscrutable feline smile.

"Oh, I can't think this late at night!" Sarah groaned as she fell back onto her bedroll.

"Perhaps you are right, Sarah Williams," the Sphinx concurred. "Perhaps what you need is a good rest. Things will look different to you in the morning, I think. Do not worry about intruders; I shall keep watch over your camp tonight. Sleep, Goblin Queen; rest your overactive mind."

As if on command, Sarah fell into a deep sleep; the last thing she remembered was the soft purr of the Sphinx and the warm weight of her body as it settled onto Sarah's feet, her tail twitching in the cool night air.

Sarah dreamt of Decima's cottage. In her dream, she walked around the house but to her surprise, rather than being bereft of entry, it had numerous windows of all shapes, a door, and a rough-hewn wooden ladder leading up to it. Though the windows covered all four sides of the house, the door was set on the side closest the river and at the base of the ladder, a series of stepping-stones set in the ground led from the house to the riverbank. In her dream, Sarah approached the ladder with confidence and climbed it. When she reached the top, she knocked on the door and when the muffled cry of "come in!" greeted the ears of her dream-self, she awoke.

* * *

The first thing Sarah realized when she woke up was that her feet were cold. The Sphinx was nowhere to be found that morning and the fire from her midnight conversation with the cat had long since died. However, adrenaline flowed hotly through her veins, so Sarah took little notice of the chill morning. Fueled with hope and renewed zeal, Sarah hastily consumed a cold breakfast, half-heartedly splashed her face with water and hurriedly packed her gear and buried the last remnants of her fire. She wanted to get to Decima's cottage as soon as possible, for—as the Sphinx had predicted—her dream had sparked her imagination into providing a solution.

When she reached the cottage, she walked around it to reach the side nearest the river. Having approached a spot approximating where she'd stood in her dream, Sarah closed her eyes and re-envisioned her dreamscape. She saw the flagstones leading from the river to the house. She tilted her head upward and envisioned a single, round window set near the peak of the roof and below it, a sturdy door of dark wood with a polished metal knocker set right in the middle of it.

Below the door, she imagined the rough-hewn ladder made from the same wood as the door; seemingly untrustworthy but in reality as solid as the ground she stood upon. Instinctively, she reached out her hands to grab hold of the ladder and climb up to the door she pictured in her mind. Much to her surprise, her fists closed about the hard, coarse surface of wood rather than the empty air she knew to be in front of her physical body.

A cry of surprise and delight sprung involuntarily from her lips, but she was even more surprised when, raising a foot to further test the reality of what she imagined, her boot struck something solid. She'd found the way into Decima's house.

**

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Heading to bed for the night! Boy am I sleepy. If you are awake and alert, please leave a review; I've been delighted to hear what you all think and to get some ideas as to what should come next. You guys are awesome! **


	22. A Rising Tide

**For those of you who wanted an update on Jareth, I have heard your request! Sorry this took so long to get posted. I actually started on it over a week ago, but was so busy the past few days that I only returned to it today. I hope it is worth the wait ;)**

_

* * *

Felicia, my dear friend and cohort,_

_You said to me before you left that I was to inform you of any significant changes in the Court of the Wise—should they at all occur. I hoped that I would never have to write this letter to you, but alas, fate it seems will not allow our lands to lie at peace so long as our rightful Arbiter remains ousted by his enemies. _

_To be precise, dear friend, word has somehow reached Ammon that the Goblin Queen Sarah has gone in search of a means to bring Jareth back from Erebus and this news has severely displeased him. I believe he thought her no real threat due to her human origin—that she would willingly submit to his wrongful authority and brutal punishments without a word. You as well as I know that this is far from an accurate depiction of the one your son chose to be his Queen. Ammon has not read the histories, nor did he pay much attention when the whole account of Sarah's defeat of the Labyrinth was told to the Court several months ago. If he had, he would not have underestimated her. _

_But for his misjudgment we can be thankful, for it has spared her from a torturous fate and given the rest of us hope that Jareth might return to help restore order to our increasingly fractured society. I'm not sure if you are aware that Ammon has begun recruiting certain Kings and Queens in preparation for a war. Those who oppose him openly or are known to be friends of your family have been wrongfully imprisoned on charges of treason. Our own dear friends Kyran and Alegra have been removed from their thrones and shut in the dungeon to await trail. And it is no good fighting Ammon's guards, for he is adept at shield magics and has already endowed even the armor of the Court Guards with his own magic to block others from using their magic in retaliation. None can withstand his orders and the only hope for restoration lies with Sarah and Jareth. I pray to the gods for their safe—and swift!—return._

_Speaking of those Ammon fears will rise against him, the new Arbiter was furious when he discovered that you had fled. He sends his cronies to search for you day and night and when they return empty-handed, his fury mounts ever higher. (I fear this means a storm looms on the horizon) I find it privately amusing that you are so near in proximity to him, yet he has no inkling that you are still within only a few hundred yards. I always smile behind my hand when the men return without any information of your whereabouts; it gives me great joy to know that you are alive, well and safe from Ammon's clutches. He truly is a black-hearted, cruel man; I am so glad you did not marry him. _

_I must go soon, my duties call to me, but there is one more piece of news that I must relate to you, though I fear that it is not pleasant at all. You wrote to me last to say that the Goblin Queen's friends were eager to find a way to help their Queen, though she is out of reach for the time being. The news I send is that there is much need for them to aid both the Centaur and Goblin Kingdoms, for Ammon has declared his son Danic ruler of both kingdoms in the absence of their rightful kings and queens. (I said above, Kyran and Alegra have been imprisoned and you know better than I the location of your daughter-in-law) Without a compassionate, just king or queen to rule them, I fear these two kingdoms may fall into ruin or chaos under Danic's heartless tyranny. I pray you, send these friends of Sarah—Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus and the centaur guide Zimri—to their homelands and bid them aid the denizens in plotting an insurrection of some kind. Bid them also send envoys to the other kingdoms so that those who stand with your son might know there is hope. You know how much I abhor disorder and anarchy, so it is not idly that I request their help in this way. I only ask this of you and them because I believe it is the only way to forestall the tidal wave that is coming. _

_I admit that I am growing increasingly worried for the future, though I try my best not to show my sympathies at the Court. Thankfully, no one pays much attention to the scribe, so my loyalties have not been manifest or questioned. _

_I must bid you farewell, dearest companion. I long for your renewed presence her at the Court; we have much need of your and Makarios' wisdom and composure. _

_Many blessings be upon you from above,_

_Asenath_

_Underground Year 7530, Age of Permanence (Felicia, I am truly beginning to doubt the accuracy of this moniker, perhaps I shall change it in the annals when the dust finally settles)_

* * *

"I am serious, Jareth—deathly serious," Apollo averred, his face grave. "The world as you and I understand it is in serious peril if something is not done to heal the magics tearing it apart."

"Breach? What breach? Are you expecting me to believe that the world is somehow ripping apart at the seams like some kind of overstuffed pillow?" Jareth lounged languidly against the wall of the cave entrance, his thin face set in a condescending sneer. Disbelief covered his face like a fine layer of dust.

"I have no reason to lie to you, Jareth," Apollo retorted, his lips set in a grim line. "And I have every reason to tell the truth. If our world rips apart, I will be affected as well, for this tier we inhabit—Erebus—is just as closely linked to the other two as they are to it. You already know that our world exists in three levels or tiers bound together by magic: the Aboveground or human tier, the Underground or titan tier, and the Underworld or tier of the dead.

"What you probably don't know is that each layer is intimately bound to the other two and the continued existence of all three levels depends upon the magical links that hold all three of them together. If one of those links begins is stretched too far or begins to fail, all three worlds would be destroyed."

"I suppose you aren't telling me this for my own amusement," Jareth surmised with a wink. He uncrossed his ankles and bent one leg to place his foot against the wall. He crossed his arms and cocked his head in a well-practiced gesture of amused curiosity.

Apollo nodded somberly, the pale light of the Underworld somehow glinting softly from his bronze hair. "When my father Zeus banished Chronus, Rhea and the Titans to the Underground, he unwittingly sealed off one of the layers from the other two. Since that time, the magic holding our threefold world together has been decaying. Slowly but surely, the corruption stemming from the Underground's isolation has been eroding the links between all three worlds."

"If the magic was so corrupted, why was I able to break through it? I thought the 'almighty' Zeus had made the barrier impassible," Jareth mocked.

Apollo brushed away the insult with a wave of his hand, "He did. Zeus did not fail to make the banishment complete, utter, and eternal; what he failed to foresee was that someday one of the Titan descendents would gain enough magical power of his own to bypass it. I foresaw it, as I have the gift of foresight. However, I refused to speak of it to my father because I also knew the damage his spell would one day cause to our world. Had he known that someone could bypass his magic, he would have made his spell ten times stronger.

"I could not let that happen, so I withheld that knowledge from him, waiting in hope for a Titan child to be born with enough power and skill to destroy my father's self-absorbed mischief." Apollo sighed and Jareth could hear the regret in his voice despite his matter-of-fact tone and placid countenance. "My father was not a wise or caring man, Jareth. He abused his power and position as ruler of heaven, taking many women from among the humans to serve as mere tools for his own insatiable lust. My own mother was among them, and my sister and I have always regretted our shameful parentage. Not that being a human is shameful, only that our parentage means that we are both bastard children.

"I have always hated my father for using my human mother as a toy only to abandon her when his immortal wife could not bear the shame of being unable to satisfy her husband's sexual appetites. Hera—Zeus first and only wife, an immortal—wanted my mother killed. In the end, however, she was forced to accept my sister and I as Zeus' immortal children and therefore worthy of respect and honor as co-rulers of the heavens. She didn't like that, but she had no choice. Had she not, I fear the rising tide of corroded magic could not have been checked.

"For my part, I did what I could to sustain the three worlds by allowing further discourse between here and the Aboveground through mediums, spiritists and necromancy. I hoped that strengthening one of the links would counteract the degradation of the third, and for a time, it did. However, when my family and I fell to ruin, all the work I had done was no more than plugging holes in a leaking dam. Deterioration inevitably erased all I had accomplished. Truthfully, I had not healed; I had only staunched the wound for a time.

"However, all that is so much wasted time now. If the degradation in magic my father caused when he foolishly banished your ancestors to the Underground continues unchecked, the links between all three tiers will be shattered. The implosion of magic caused by such an event would destroy everything. You've seen the explosive power of your own magic and the havoc it can wreak. Imagine that infinitely multiplied."

Jareth stared open mouthed at Apollo. All confidence and mockery dissipated from his demeanor like a morning mist. Instead, shock and horror were written across his thin face. It took several minutes for him to respond; though his mouth opened and closed like a fish no sound came out. He had no words, only fear. Recalling the destruction he had wreaked on his throne room when Sarah had so suddenly entered his life after seven years, he could well imagine the destructive proportions Apollo implied were the magic strong enough and the object being manipulated—in this case, the world—were large enough. If Apollo was correct, there was no hope. The world was doomed—himself, Sarah, their lives and their future, all doomed to be torn apart by magic's dark actuality.

"What can be done?" Jareth asked hoarsely, his voice no more than a harsh whisper on the wind.

"By just anyone? Nothing. There is nothing that just any human or titan can do to change anything," Apollo answered. His voice fell like a judge's gavel in the gloom, pronouncing a death sentence on every living creature in the world. Jareth felt a light breeze coming from the fetid fields below him and the stench of decay and depression overwhelmed his senses. He felt nauseous.

"Then what is the point? Why are you telling me this—to taunt me? To remind me that in my last days I will never see the woman I love? Why, Apollo? Why torment me with this when nothing can be done?" Jareth flung back. He fought back the bile rising in his throat and turned away from the bronzed man opposite him, his anger and stomach roiling.

"I didn't say that _nothing_ could be done at all," Apollo corrected. He had not moved at all during the conversation and his face held the same stoic serenity as it had at the first moment Jareth laid eyes on him. "I only said that nothing could be done by _just anybody._"

"I don't see the difference," Jareth uttered darkly, his mismatched eyes blazed with barely subdued violence.

"There is a very great difference. For you, Jareth, are not just anybody. You are the man I foresaw thousands of years ago: the man with the power to undo all that my father wrought."

Jareth's anger vanished as quickly as it had come only to be replaced with a mirth bordering on mania. His nausea—combined with barely suppressed anger and fear—made him hysterical. As he had when his host had first mentioned the end of the world, Jareth threw back his head and laughed at Apollo's pronouncements. His wild hair flew around his face in a tempest of white-blond strands. He managed to eke out one question amid the peals of laughter, "I?"

"Yes, you, Jareth, Goblin King and Lord of the Labyrinth," Apollo answered calmly. He fixed Jareth with a piercing gaze and held him with it until the other's laughter vanished.

"What the hell do you expect me to do from here?" Jareth retorted; his eyebrows arched wryly as his usual mocking smile returned. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm stuck, literally, in Hell without any of my magic to aid me."

"I know. But you may not always be trapped here. Perhaps someone will come to rescue you from this place and restore you to your rightful throne and power. If not, we will all be destroyed together and there is nothing any of us can do about it. However, if you do return to the Underground, your goblin minions, and your beloved human queen, you must not forget that you have a duty to perform."

"Are you actually telling me what to do? You have no power and no authority in my life. I do what I please," Jareth sneered.

Apollo pointedly ignored Jareth's question; he had had enough of the Goblin King's arrogance and baited mockery. He refused to be caught up again in verbal sparring. He stood slowly and faced the Goblin King directly, their eyes locked. "You already know that you have the ability to transgress the boundary placed on your kind. You have used it to seek out a human woman for yourself and to more thoroughly understand the Aboveground from which your kind were banished. This is a power that can be used for great good, as I have said—indeed, your skill is absolutely necessary if our three worlds are to be united again and healed. However, should you desire to use this power to heal, you must also know that it can be used for great evil as well.

"You must not yourself use or allow others to use the repealed banishment as an attempt to rule over the humans. My father foolishly thought he deserved to rule them and his arrogance led to his downfall. Demolishing the boundary could lead even greater atrocities should those with wicked hearts choose to expand their authority from the Underground to the Aboveground," Apollo raised an eyebrow suggestively. "You know those of whom I speak, Jareth, for they sent you here. You saw a fraction of what they were capable of regarding their peers; you do not need to imagine what they would do to the humans if the mortals ever came into their grasp."

Jareth recalled the hateful, superior way Danic had treated Sarah and immediately understood Apollo's warning. _Since Danic and his father are capable of abusing a Queen of the Underground because she is a human—despite her honor and standing among our kingdoms—they would not hesitate to enslave or even destroy the humans of the Aboveground. Ammon blames them for our continued banishment to the Underground, believing that if they had never existed the Olympians might one day have revoked the exile. I don't know what Danic thinks, but I know that his heart is fouler that his father's. He would torture the humans just to see how much they could take, or to find out from them what it feels like to die. _An involuntary shudder shook the King's frame. _I can't let that happen to Sarah…or to anyone from the Aboveground. I may not love them all as I love Sarah, but I cannot abandon them to such a fate._

Seeing the dawning light of comprehension in Jareth's eyes, Apollo continued, "I can see that you comprehend me, Jareth. Nothing good ever comes from immortals associating with mortals."

"You fail to recall that my own wife and queen is mortal, Apollo."

"For now," Apollo replied with a shrug of his tanned shoulders. "She may not always be. And remember that the very reason you are here now, in Erebus, is because you chose to desire a human woman instead of one of your own kindred. Had you married a Titan woman, you would not be sitting here talking to me right now."

"Don't you dare say anything against Sarah," Jareth warned. Every muscle in his body was suddenly tense. His eyes had clouded over darkly and his hair trembled from the energy issuing from his taut frame. "I moved the stars for no one but her; I reordered time for her and I would do it again gladly. I cannot live without her. You might as well ask me not to breathe as to turn my back on her or regret my decision to give her my heart. You say I am the only man who can save the world, well, you wouldn't have me to save it were it not for Sarah. I do not exist without her."

Apollo nodded slowly, almost sadly. "Whether you believe me or not, Jareth, I understand your heart and mind better than anyone. I have foreseen it all and I know that you will need all your love for her if you are to prevent the looming destruction and bring healing."

Against his own better judgment, Jareth found himself confessing, "I believe you, Apollo. I believe everything you said."

For, despite his inherent skepticism, Jareth realized that he trusted Apollo. He had not the air of a liar and troublemaker that had clung so closely to Hermes. Hermes spoke in riddles and half-truths—much like Jareth himself was prone to do—and for that reason, he was not entirely reliable if he had no personal inclination to speak forthrightly. Apollo, however, had an aura of openness and honesty about him. His words were calculated to induce wisdom, not fear or confusion; his frankness engendered Jareth's trust in a way Hermes' kindred spirit could not. Here, in all of Hell, was a man he could believe without question.

"So," Jareth replied. "What am I supposed to do?"

"That, my friend, is a very good question," Apollo answered. "Let's find out together shall we?"

Holding out his hand to Jareth, the two shook hands as comrades and the bronze-headed immortal led his companion back into heart of the cave and away from the cloying scent of death and despair.

**

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Thanks for reading! I hope you all had a lovely New Year, I did. Concrit is welcome and feel free to leave a review to let me know how much you have enjoyed reading. I will warn you guys, though, now that I am back to working most of the week, it will take a bit longer for the chapters to get out. Just be prepared!**


	23. The House of the Second Sister

**Some of you have been asking for an update on Toby. I didn't originally intend to write one in any time soon, but I was feeling sympathetic and decided to heed your whims. :) I worked a little something in for you with what I already had. Surprisingly, in my attempts to work it in, I came up with the mirror scene and then the whole last part of the story after Sarah falls asleep just fell into my lap. So thanks for the suggestion, you made this chapter a hundred times better. Enjoy!**

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What Sarah saw when the door of Decima's cottage opened was not as she had expected. Given the lack of visible windows to the naked eye and the general air of privacy of the hut—it was, after all, built on stilts with no visible ladder or door—she gathered the interior would be just as secretive and gloomy as the exterior had been at first sight. She could not have been more wrong. Light streamed through a myriad of windows in a molten stream of yellow and gold and the walls were painted in bright, cheery blues, greens and yellows.

She stepped off the ladder and into a spacious meadow. Amidst the earth and sky toned walls multicolored flowers bedecked a vast array of pillows, blankets and upholstered chairs. Indeed, the association with nature was overpowering and borderline twee. She'd had a great-aunt with a sitting room like this once. Hers had smelled of cats and stale perfume, but this one smelt like a fresh walk in the garden—a proper British spinster's room from a story.

At any moment she expected a round-faced cheery woman with rosy-apple cheeks and a white ruffled cap to come puttering into the room with profuse pronouncements of 'my duckling' and 'my goodness.' On this point, Sarah was not disappointed.

A few seconds later, a short, plump, rosy-cheeked woman—complete with white cap and apron—bustled into the room with a warm cry of surprise. She was roughly middle-aged, but the exact number of years was indeterminate. Her face had only a few faint smile lines and a vague whisper of crow's feet around her eyes, but nothing more. She was surprisingly average and Sarah couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment. _I suppose they can't all be as interesting as Nona. _

"Goodness me, a visitor!" Decima tittered. "I didn't expect you so soon, Sarah. Come in, come in! Don't linger on the doorstep, duckie, just come on in and sit down here in the parlor. My, my, I must get the kettle on for tea and would you like some cake—of course you would. Now I must send word to Nona about that seedcake recipe she loaned me a decade or so ago. I can't find mine anywhere and goodness knows I can't keep having company come over without it! I'm sure she has a spare somewhere—come in, come in! Sit down and rest yourself, dearie. I'll have tea ready in a mo'!" With that, Decima disappeared through a doorway and toward what Sarah supposed to be the kitchen, keeping up an audible dialogue with herself the whole way.

"I have to admit, she wasn't what I expected. These two sisters's couldn't be more different. On the other hand, she fits perfectly with the stereotype of her house," Sarah mused. "I'd have thought her to be, well, less profuse with her welcome given that her house seems designed to keep people out rather than usher than in. She's a bit batty, to quote my British professor from college. Almost as fluffy as those old spinsters you read about in Agatha Christie novels—delightful, but…oh what's the word? Gushy. That's it."

She shook her head in amusement and eyed the needlepoint prints of flowers and birds adorning the sofa cushions next to her. She'd chosen a seat on the only piece of furniture not upholstered in floral print: a simple, moss-colored sofa with a matching ottoman to rest her swollen feet comfortably.

The original pillows had all been re-decorated with what appeared to be homemade needlework slipcovers to match the upholstered chairs opposite. Sarah felt like she was sitting a little circle of grass with wildflowers growing around her, but the more she sat in the brightly decorated sitting room, listening to Decima's chatter from the kitchen, the more restful she felt.

The tight muscles in her shoulders and back relaxed and the throbbing of her pregnancy-induced swelling eased. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes, resting her head on the back of the couch.

"Sleeping so soon, my chick?" Decima re-entered the room carrying a silver tray loaded with a tea service and a delicious looking cake, which she set down on the wooden table between the sofa and two chairs. Taking up residence in one of the chairs opposite Sarah, she began to pour tea into a delicate china cup patterned with pink roses.

"My, my you must be bone-tired from all your travels. Come, come, sit up and drink your tea. It's healthful and wholesome—put a little bit of color back into those porcelain cheeks of yours. And eat that cake right up, too. You need some nourishment! Can't let that baby waste away on traveler's food and waybread," Decima made a face that clearly depicted her distaste for the dense bread. "Well, don't just sit there gawking, eat!"

Sarah did as she was told. True to her word, the tea and cake Decima offered was delicious. Indeed, Sarah thought she had never tasted anything so delightful in her entire life. It was neither too sweet nor too bland and the tea was just the right temperature to warm her insides without burning her tongue.

Decima watched her eat with a benign smile of satisfaction on her plump face. She refilled Sarah's cup and plate without a word to her guest, humming tunelessly to herself and occasionally muttering a few words that Sarah could not discern.

When Sarah had her fill, Decima cleared away the tea tray. Sarah could hear the plump, cheery woman bustling about in the kitchen and she again wondered at the dissimilarity between the two sisters she had met.

_Nona moved with gentle grace and wisdom born from age and experience. She laughed as easily as a child, yet saw the world with the seriousness of a wise old crone. Decima, in contrast, is cheerily bland. Nona welcomed all with an open door whereas Decima's home exudes inhospitality when the one who dwells inside could not be more opposite in temperament. Nona's body is a walking contradiction; here, the contradiction appears to be between the house and it's occupant. The environment _appears_ harsh and unwelcoming but the interior is as fresh and inviting as a sun-bathed meadow. Once you get past the façade, Decima fits perfectly in her chosen abode—as smothering and hospitable as a spinster aunt. I'm surprised she doesn't have cats. _

The clatter of dishes had faded from the other room and Sarah could hear Decima's faint humming getting louder as the woman made her way from the kitchen to the parlor. Her arms were full of sky blue knitting that turned out to be an overlarge blanket.

"Take off your shoes, now Sarah. Your feet must be aching from all that walking—and carrying a little one, too," she clucked her tongue like a mother hen as she helped Sarah with her careworn leather boots. "My, my, you poor dear. I'll see what I can do to rummage up a soothing footsoak for you. I have some lavender here somewhere and some elderon root—that should do nicely. Now you just sit here another minute and I'll have that all ready for you!"

And before Sarah could get a word in edgewise, Decima had once again bustled out of the room.

When Sarah was finally nestled into the couch—her feet soaking in a tub of warm water that emitted a most delicious and relaxing sent and the rest of her body draped in folds of the sky-blue knitted blanket—Decima finally settled down. The sun streaming in through the western windows told the two women that it was well past midday, but the late tea had satiated their appetites and Sarah furiously protested that she couldn't even think of eating another bite until supper. Though Sarah had not moved since sitting down, Decima's indefatigable bustling made Sarah tired.

Convinced that her guest was in no need of anything, Decima fixed herself a cup of tea and sat down opposite the pregnant queen with a pile of shapeless yellow knitting, humming the same tuneless melody as before. The rhythmic clicking of Decima's needles drummed out a lullaby to which Sarah's body acquiesced eagerly. Her eyes felt heavy and the soothing aroma of the herbs drifted lazily around her head, teasing her and coaxing her into sleep. Unable to resist the intoxicating dance, Sarah fell asleep.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, darkness surrounded her. She presumed it was night, but not even the light of the moon or a few distant stars in one of the many windows illuminated her surroundings. The blackness was complete and utter.

The blanket that had shrouded her was gone and when she attempted to rise from the couch, she found herself already standing on firm ground. She moved her arms and feet cautiously, testing the area within kicking distance for any furniture. There was nothing. Her immediate environs were a black desert of nothingness.

"Decima?" she called confidently into the darkness. Fear would not serve her, only determination. She would not submit to the tyranny of the unknown. She recited her litany of power from seven years ago to keep up her courage.

_You have no power over me. Whoever you are, whatever you are, wherever I am—you have no power over me!_

"You called me, Goblin Queen?" A female voice answered from the darkness—the whisper of leaves in the wind.

To her left, a dim rust-colored glow appeared, blossoming swiftly into the dancing yellow and orange of a candle's flame. The soft light illumined a tall glowing ivory taper set in a silver base. Of the speaker, Sarah could see nothing more than a black hood and a thin, pale hand gripping the polished base of the candle.

"Are you Decima?" Sarah asked, slightly bewildered by the altered form of her hostess.

"I am," the hood answered. "What do you ask of me, Goblin Queen?"

"I've come to retrieve my lifethread. I was told I could only obtain it from you," Sarah replied.

"You were rightly informed, then, my queen. If it is the thread of your life that you seek, no other may offer it to you but I—Decima, the second of three sisters and the measurer of all life. Do you know the price of that which you ask of me, Goblin Queen?" The shrouded form moved a few inches closer, but the nearness did not illumine any more of her features. Blackness clung to her like a ebony veil of cobwebs.

"The price?"

"All treasures of great worth have a price, Goblin Queen. You ask for your very life from me and I shan't give it up without something of equal value for repayment. Did not my sister tell you this? I doubt she would have offered up her distaff to you without recompense."

Sarah touched her hair wistfully, recalling the sacrifice of her crown to the eldest sister to obtain the necessary item. Nona had failed to tell her that hers would not be the only payment necessary—Sarah wondered what else she had to offer.

Dropping her hand to her side, it brushed against something cold, hard and metallic: her amulet. Sarah fingered the golden crescent—the exact replica of Jareth's pendant—given to her as a token of her power and authority not only in the Goblin Kingdom, but also in all the Underground kingdoms. This amulet proved her worthy of respect; it was her passport into the hallowed halls of the Court of the Wise and any other royal court in the land. Without it, she would be no more than another denizen of the Underground, nay, even less, for she was human and not a born resident of the land; no one would recognize her as a queen.

_Can I?_ She pondered, her fingers tracing the curved lines of the insignia. _I have nothing else…I cannot go back to the Underground and expect to be welcomed without it. But I can't go forward on my quest unless I give it up. _With a heavy sigh, she made her decision.

Unclasping the pendant from her neck, she held it out in both hands to her inquisitor. She felt a weight heavier than that measured in gold lift from her shoulders. "Here, take my amulet. It is all I have to offer you. Will this suffice as an exchange for my lifethread?"

A second pale hand appeared in the dim circle of light, picked up the amulet and faded back into the darkness.

"It will suffice, Goblin Queen," the heavily shrouded figure rasped. "Your recompense is worth the price you request. Come, follow me and I will give you the thread of your life."

The light turned so that it was behind the Decima's hooded face, forcing Sarah to follow with only the halo of light surrounding the black head to guide her. Surprisingly, she did not falter on her path. The ground stayed level and only once did Sarah feel the subtle change in air currents that told her they had passed from a room into a long hallway.

They walked noiselessly, not even the sound of their footfalls echoed in the blackness. Silence pervaded their every movement and only the flickering corona of Decima's candle communicated that they were still walking at all. At last, the air surrounding them shifted again and Sarah could barely discern a glowing silver line a few feet in front of her hostess' flickering candle.

Decima set the candle down on an unseen surface and reached for the silver glow, blocking it from Sarah's view. In an instant, the whole room was flooded with a bright aura and Sarah shaded her eyes against the radiance. Her eyes soon adjusted to the new light and she discerned that its source was one of several deep chests that lined the far wall of the room. The one her hostess was rifling through was filled with spools of glowing thread. Among these, Decima sifted and sorted, pushing aside hundreds of spools until she came upon the one she wanted.

Rising from her stooped position over the chest, Decima held forth a single spool in her pale hand. It appeared identical to all the other spools she had discarded but nevertheless, she offered it to Sarah saying, "Take it, Goblin Queen. This lifethread is yours."

"How do you know?" Sarah queried, intrigued that the woman could identify her thread from the hundreds—if not thousands, were the other chests similarly filled—that lay before her.

"I know all thread that has passed through my fingers. I could no more mistake one for another than a mother could mistake another's infant for her own."

Sarah took the glowing thread in her hands and held it up reverently. _This is my lifethread, whatever that means. Could it be that my entire life's span is measured in this thread? I wonder how long it is? Does it reach to old age or am I doomed to die on my quest? Would it tell me if I eventually gained immortality? Hmmm, that makes me wonder if Jareth has one of these. Perhaps not. How would you measure the life of the immortal?_

_But surely my family is in there somewhere, if mine was. _

At the thought of her family in the Aboveground, bereft and possibly frightened for her—Toby, her father, even Karen—a soft cry sprang unbidden from Sarah's lips.

"Is there something else you wish of me, Goblin Queen?" Decima asked softly.

"I—I was only thinking of my family in the Aboveground. I have not seen or spoken to them in months and, well, I wondered how they were doing. My brother has been used to hearing from me, but—"

"You lost contact a few months ago," Decima finished.

"How did you know?" Sarah uttered in surprise.

"Your life," Decima replied and a pale hand gestured in the direction of the silvery thread in Sarah's hand, "I have seen it all."

"I see," Sarah concluded, the irony of her statement was not lost on her and she smiled at herself in the darkness. "I don't suppose you could—well, I don't know. I'm not even sure what I'm asking."

"Would you like to see them?" Decima responded, taking up the candle in her left hand and moving toward the hallway.

"Can I?" Wonder and delight flooded Sarah's heart; she hadn't even dared to hope that she would ever see them again. "I mean, is it possible?"

"Of course it is. I am the measurer of life and therefore all lives are open for my perusal. Come, follow me."

This second trip down the hallway was shorter than the first—though whether it was due to a shorter distance or to the overwhelming joy in Sarah's heart that made all movement seem but the blink of an eye, she never knew. They entered another chamber and Decima immediately used her candle to light several others hanging in sconces on the wall. They provided enough light for Sarah to see that on either side of her, a series of mirrors arced to form an almost complete circle, made incomplete only by the doorway.

Decima, however, remained shrouded in mystery; only her pale, spidery hands were visible now and then among the deep folds of her black cloak. Sarah's hostess moved to a long, rectangular, and heavily gilded mirror on Sarah's right; a single finger beckoned her to follow.

Beside her black companion, Sarah stared inquisitively at the cloudy, unreflective surface. She could see nothing, not even her own reflection. Decima touched the center of the mirror and where her finger had been, a small ripple of color appeared on the surface, undulating outward like the aftereffects of a pebble dropped in a pool of water. With each wavelet, more color appeared and Sarah discerned a hazy image materializing in the disturbed surface of the mirror.

When the ripples died, Sarah had a clear, bird's eye vision of her brother's bedroom, familiar enough though it was bathed with shimmering colors. From above, she easily spotted Jareth's crystal lying amid a jumble of her brother's underwear. _That was dumb, Toby. Why leave it out in the open for Dad or Karen to find?_

As if summoned, the immaculately coiffed blond hair of Karen's head came into view from Toby's open doorway. _Oh no. _Sarah watched with horror as Karen approached the glistening orb, pulled Toby's drawer out an inch further and slowly picked up the crystal as if it were a priceless treasure. _Put it back,_ Sarah urged mentally. _Decide it isn't important and put it down. Toby will be home soon—I hope—and you know he hates it when you go through his things. Just believe it is nothing more than a boy's bauble and let it go._ Sarah wanted to shake her brother for letting the crystal fall into his stepmother's prying eyes and hands, but she could do no more than watch painfully as Karen refused to disregard the glittering object. Karen's eyes widened as she stared into the depths of the crystal; her lips were moving, but Sarah could not discern the words. _Damn it, what is she saying? Does she see anything?—how could she, she doesn't know how to use it._

"Mom?!" Sarah heard Toby cry out and the sound of his voice shocked her from her fixation on her stepmother. She hadn't realized these visions came equipped with surround sound. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Toby," Karen's 'mom voice' cut through the silent room. Sarah knew that Toby was in big trouble, even if he was unaware of the fact. In her teenage years, she had learned to understand Karen's mood—and the possible consequences of it—by the tone of her voice. Though Toby was too young to detect it, Karen had employed her most serious tone of voice. _Uh-oh_. "What is this?"

Sarah barely heard the next part of the conversation. Her head was spinning. _Is this why I haven't heard from Toby in a while? Did Karen take the crystal from him? _Possible, but Toby wasn't beyond employing trickery, bribery, or secrecy to get the crystal back. _He could have found a way by now. If it were possible._ That thought gave her pause.

_Perhaps she threw it out or gave it away. Oh God, what if she gave it to Dad and he gave it to some 'specialist' to examine. Or what if she sold it?_ She thought of a dozen different scenarios for what her stepmother could have done with it, each one more horrible than the next. None of them, however, prepared her for the truth.

_Crash!_ The sound of broken glass echoed from the mirror in tragic waves. "No!" Sarah shouted, gripping the mirror in both her hands she stared in shock and agony at the glittering shards of glass strewn across Toby's bedroom floor. "NO! Toby. Toby!"

"The visions cannot hear you, Sarah," Decima gentled; she placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder and the latter relaxed her death grip on the frame of the mirror. "Just watch."

Sarah saw Toby's tear-streaked face look sorrowfully up at their father. "Dad, what have you done?"

"Done?" Robert answered, his face livid. "What have _I_ done? Toby, you're already in huge trouble young man, don't dig yourself into a deeper hole than you're able to climb out of."

"But—" Toby protested, his hands still cradling the phantom remains of the now shattered crystal.

"No 'buts' young man. Your mother tells me that you've been hiding something from us about Sarah. Is this true?"

"I haven't been hiding anything!" Toby wailed.

"So you haven't been secretly communicating with her and not telling us about it?" Robert demanded; he crossed his arms over his chest, one foot tapping dangerously on the hardwood floor.

Toby hesitated.

"I'm waiting for you to decide to tell the truth, Toby. Don't make me wait all night."

Karen's face appeared next to her husbands. She looked anxiously between father and son, hating the tension but impatient for her son's response. "Toby! Tell your father what you told me this afternoon: that you and Sarah had been secretly talking on the phone the first few months she was gone but that you'd had trouble reaching her recently. Go on, tell him!"

"Let me handle this, Karen," Robert insisted, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder and turning a severe face to his young son. "I'm still waiting Toby. Did you tell your mother that?"

"Not exactly," Toby muttered.

"He's lying, Robert!" Karen exclaimed, gesturing angrily in the direction of Toby's chest of drawers. "I stood right there when he told me he had been talking to Sarah on the phone for months and never told us!"

"I never said I talked to her on the phone!" Toby responded defensively. "I just said I talked to her, not how I did."

"So you _have_ been speaking to her," Robert concluded. When Toby hesitated, avoiding direct eye contact with his irate father, Robert's foot tapped out warning cadence in time with the heavy beating of Toby's heart.

However, Robert's initial burst of anger had been replaced with stern, intractable patience. He well knew his son's stubbornness—Sarah had been the same—and he had realized years ago that the best way to respond was lack of emotion rather than extreme anger. Toby noted his father's placid face and grew worried; the possibility of ending this positively were slim now that his father had calmed down.

"Uh, well, ummm." Toby twisted and untwisted his fingers together nervously, looking everywhere but at his parents.

"You have a choice, Toby," Robert stated calmly. "Either you answer your mother and I now and we can plan your school trip to Greece tonight after dinner. Or, you can continue refusing to answer us and we will all spend the rest of the night planning how you will use your time wisely this summer at home. The choice is yours."

"Karen," Robert turned to his wife. "Shall we go down to dinner and let Toby think this over for a while? It may take a while for him to make up his mind about such an important decision. Let's not bug him while he's thinking."

"But, Robert—" Karen protested weakly, glancing back at Toby suspiciously.

"Not to worry, darling," Robert soothed. "Whatever the thing was that Toby was hiding from us is broken. He can't do anything with it now, so we have no need to worry he will do something rash while we eat. When he's ready to make up his mind, he will come down and join us at dinner, right Toby?"

"Right, Dad," Toby mumbled, not daring to look any higher than the tip of his blue and white sneakers.

"See, Karen? Everything is going to be fine. Now, what did you cook up for us tonight? I'm starving!"

Toby listened to his father's chatter disappear down the stairs as he walked Karen into the dining room. He hated his father's 'choices'—he never seemed to end up with one that he was happy with. He grumbled aloud, kicking a pair of socks under the bed in frustration, "Either I expose Sarah, Jareth and the Underground in order to go on my trip to Greece or I lie about it and stay home for the rest of the summer doing nothing while my friends have fun. Blech! Some choices…neither one is what I really want to do…"

He picked up a few of the larger pieces of the crystal, careful to avoid cutting himself on the sharp edges. "Oh, Sarah. What am I supposed to do? What would _you_ do if this were your choice? Would you tell the truth or face a lonely, boring summer doing chores and reading stuffy old books that mom considers 'good literature for a youth of your age'?"

He sighed wearily—the sigh of an old, weary man whose life lay heavily upon him. Secrecy aged him far beyond his tender years. "I can't," he whispered to the glittering shards winking sadly at him from the floor. "It isn't my secret to tell."

The vision faded and Sarah was again faced with the unnervingly unreflective surface of the gilt mirror.

"Is there more?" Sarah asked softly. She reached out a hand to touch the mirror, as if to pull Toby back from within its depths. A tear escaped from her lashes, splashing unseen onto the cold floor. _Poor Toby, I laid to heavy a burden on him when he went back home. Perhaps the Court was right: ignorance can be bliss—at least, it may have been better than the alternative. _

"Not tonight, my queen. There is another vision you must see before you leave. Would you go before you have seen the fate of your dear friends here in the Underground?"

"Hoggle!" Sarah clapped her hands to her cheeks. "Is he okay? And what of Ludo and Sir Didymus? How are they? Can I see them, too? Oh please, tell me they're all right!"

"Of course you may, for a time. Remember, the visions cannot hear you and _you_ can only see _them_," Decima admonished. "And as for the passage of time, what you see may be a day, an hour or even a month old. All that can be guaranteed with the visions is that they are younger than one year. Other than that, what the mirror shows is bound by no-one, not even I."

Sarah nodded and Decima led her across the semi-circle to another mirror—a plain, black rimmed oval mirror with the same unreflective sheen. Sarah peered closely and the same ripple effect, birthed from Decima's finger, replaced the clouded surface with an image as clear and sharp as if she saw it through an open window.

The surface was dark and no sound emitted. Sarah wondered if this mirror were a dud, but no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a flicker of yellow flared to life in the center of the mirror. The scene was shockingly familiar—in the light of a single matchstick shadow and light danced across Hoggle's ruddy face.

"The oubliette," she whispered to no one but herself. In the mirror, Hoggle was speaking to his invisible companions.

"Now then, here's what we have to do now," the little dwarf said, lighting a small lantern and setting it on a rock. In the glow, Sarah perceived a shadowy behemoth that could only be Ludo sitting next to the feather-bedecked knight Didymus and his trusty stead Ambrosius. On Ludo's other side, a black-haired centaur knelt with his arms crossed soberly in concentration. Even in stillness Sarah could not mistake the boundless energy radiating from his stiff posture; like the sun itself, Zimri could not be dimmed.

"By what right have you taken up the authority of war-leader for our little band, my dear fellow?" Didymus interrupted. "If valor at arms be the test, then I must protest that I am the most suitable for that róle." The little fox leapt to his feat, brandishing his staff fearlessly and with great pomp.

"But it ain't," Hoggle retorted. "Besides, yer far too prone to go running straight at the enemy, yowling at the top of yer lungs and what we need here is secrecy."

"He's right, my valiant friend," Zimri interjected, placing a friendly hand on Didymus' arm. "But do not worry, no one here doubts your courage or strength. Rather, we have need for subtlety and stealth, not brash confrontation."

"Ludo. Quiet," the orange beast moaned in a well-meaning attempt at a whisper.

"That's right," Hoggle agreed, patting Ludo's shaggy leg affectionately. "We're gonna attempt a covert operation on those people who've taken over while Sarah and Jareth are gone, so we need to be as quiet as possible. Now's not the time for heroics; time for us cowards to do our best to save the kingdom." The dwarf stood tall, for once in his life proud of his traitorous habits.

Abashed, Didymus sank to his haunches, stirring the dirt listlessly with the pointed end of his staff.

Hoggle ignored him and continued to outline his plan. "I know more ways in and out of the goblin kingdom than any ten goblins combined—you'd need to when you work for Jareth, never know when a good escape plan is necessary. So, I can get us in real quite like without nobody noticing. When we're in, we can rally the goblins to our side and fight off the bad guys in one huge force."

The three companions stared at him emptily. The lantern sputtered once and sparks flew out of from between the iron bars.

"That sounds great in theory, Hoggle," Zimri said kindly. "But how can we be sure the goblins will fight for us? What if they like their new king?"

"And besides, dost thou not remember our last great battle with the detestable creatures?" Sir Didymus chimed in.

"Goblins fight bad," Ludo bellowed, no longer trying to whisper.

"Yer right, I suppose." Hoggle sat down and put his head in his hands. "How are we ever gonna plot whatever it is we're supposed to plot?"

"An insurrection," Zimri corrected. "I'm not sure, Hoggle. We'll just have to keep thinking."

"Thinking. Hard," Ludo asserted.

"Yes, brother Ludo, for thee, I dare say, it would be," Sir Didymus quipped.

The scene faded and Sarah was bereft for a second time of any further knowledge of those she loved.

"Mark well the last vision, Sarah, Goblin Queen," Decima urged. Light flickered from her dying candle and Sarah realized their time was growing short. "The world you love is on the verge of chaos. If you fail at your mission to retrieve your lost lover, this world and the world you came from are in very grave danger."

"What danger?" Sarah pressed, fighting with all her strength to still time, to get more information. "Is it from Ammon—could he really hurt Toby and my family when the barrier between the Underground and Aboveground still exists?"

"Destruction looms, Goblin Queen. Time grows short. Rescue your beloved, the future belongs to you both. Farewell." With one last gasp, the candle winked out. Decima's last word echoed in the darkness and Sarah felt her body move, float. She was weightless, suddenly falling.

* * *

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up with a start, her breath exhaling in ragged gasps.

"Good Lord, Decima, what did you put in that tea?" She looked around for her hostess but realized that she was no longer seated in the meadow-like parlor. She was alone by the stream where she had slept the night before. _Was it all a dream?_

Her left hand clutched something soft and silken. Unfurling her delicate fingers Sarah saw a spool of silvery thread nestled in her palm.

"The thread…" she uttered softly. "Then that means…" She reached her empty hand up to her throat to feel for the golden chain belonging to her amulet but her searching fingers found nothing but her own skin.

"It wasn't a dream." Awe filled her and a tingling sensation crept over her skin. "It was real."

_But which woman was the real Decima? _She wondered as she packed her things. _I'll probably never know. With the way things go around here, probably both. _

The morning sun filtered through the yellow leaves of the willow tree to glance off the moving water and her shelter was suddenly filled with dancing light—yellow, green, blue—the flickering light dazzled her and she closed her eyes to remember.

Somewhere far behind her, a plump woman of indeterminate age walked down a stone path to wash her linens in the river, a delightful, tuneless melody floating on the wind behind her.

**

* * *

That's all for today, folks. If I'm lucky, I can get another chapter or two out this weekend while I'm off of work. Wish me luck and leave a review to ease the passing time ;)**


	24. A Far Shore

**Well, it was a strange weekend, but at least I get the afternoon off because my afternoon kids are sick—sad for them and their mommy, but a delightful respite for me. I am therefore able to offer you another chapter for your reading enjoyment.**

* * *

Morning dew glittered in the sunlight—diamonds and pearls on a bed of green velvet. A southern wind blew, casting the glittering gems from their stalks to fall unseen on the earth beneath. The fresh wind also brought a new scent to Sarah's nostrils—the briny tang of salt spray with the aftertaste of sun-bleached, rotting fish.

"The sea," she murmured to the wind, a tiny smile on her slightly tanned face. It teased her ebony hair in reply and sped off behind her. The wind was busy today; there was no time to linger, for far upriver a woman's laundry needed drying and a nest of fledgling sparrows wanted playing with. It had more important matters than a pregnant woman's musings.

"What do you think of that, child? We're going to the beach," Sarah spoke to her protruding belly, giving it an affectionate caress with her hands. "Too bad I didn't pack my bathing suit. Then again, with you around, maybe it's not a huge loss. I've never been a fan of bikini's on pregnant mothers."

Sarah hitched her pack a bit higher on her back with a soft moan. Her back ached terribly—mostly from the growing weight on her abdomen—and the added weight of the pack didn't improve her lot. Neither did sleeping on the ground for the past several days.

It had been over a week since she left the vicinity of Decima's cottage and she hadn't looked back. Certain that any investigation of the strange happenings at the house of the second sister would only increase her confusion and delay her journey, Sarah had trudged onward without a second look. Without any clear path, she chose to follow the winding course of the river to its outlet—it had to end somewhere, most likely a lake or sea of some kind. She hoped for the latter, believing it would help lead her to the next barrier and from there, the third and final sister.

* * *

The month-long journey through the mountains to Nona's cottage had been the first barrier, the barrier of earth. Looking back, she realized that the bottomless gorge the eagles had flown her over must have been the barrier of air, making it the second. That had led her to Decima and the strange house in the air. (Only on hindsight had she made the connection between the house on stilts and the chasm—air. The house almost literally rested on air and the chasm was merely the geological container for what was, essentially, a vast amount of air.)

Now she focused on the third boundary and, thereafter, the third sister. _Will it be fire or water?_ She turned the question over, under, upside down and inside out but found no answer. Until today. The south wind had brought her a possible clue to the nature of her next task.

"The sea," she said again, letting the word drift in front of her like a dandelion puff. "Is that the next barrier? A vast ocean of water that I must find a way to cross?"

But the wind didn't answer. It was already far behind her and a new, westward wind had arisen to erase all evidence of the sea from her senses.

"Looks like we'll just have to keep on walking, baby. You never get anywhere by standing around looking puzzled and waiting for an answer, the Labyrinth taught me that with a vengeance."

As the day wore on, the taste of salt on the air grew stronger. By midday, Sarah thought she could hear the cry of seabirds and by mid-afternoon, the unmistakable sound of waves crashing onto sand met her eager ears. The taste of brine and rotten fish was by now fixed as the dominant flavor in the air. The streambed had long ago begun to broaden and the rocky shores crumble away into sand and fine silt. Before nightfall, she would reach the sea.

True to her predictions, Sarah's leather-soled boot touched the soft white sands of the beach just as the first edge of the sun kissed the far horizon. She drank deeply of the salty air, relishing the feel of the wind in her mouth.

She'd always loved the beach. Even as a child, she had looked forward to her vacations on the Atlantic coasts with delight. Though the air and water was cold, she had not minded it. Once—soon after her mother left—she and her father had even been to southern California. The trip had been to Disneyland, but she had almost as much fun on the shoreline as she had in the park. Something about the sea drew her, called to her like a long-lost lover. It was in her veins, her very blood. She knew somewhere in her past, her ancestors had been coastal-dwellers, fishermen perhaps or simply farmers near the ocean. She could not explain the pull otherwise. All she knew was that she loved the sea and that it, in turn, called out to her inexplicably.

Not wanting to be caught in the forceful sea winds without shelter, she picked her way along the dunes to a grove of trees. The branches were grey and bleached from the wind and for the most part stripped of leaves, but a few overhanging branches on the far side provided a simple shelter away from the coldest of the winds. Here also, she discovered a cache of stones to serve as a fire pit. Gathering driftwood from further down the beach, she was able to create an adequate stockpile to keep her fire going for most of the night.

She lit a fire and prepared another simple meal of waybread and a few special treats leftover from the provisions Nona had offered her. The wind died down and she watched the sun set over the sea while she ate. The flaming disc of rusted red-gold fire slipped silently into the waves like a torch extinguished in a bucket of water.

Overhead, the dim stars visible in the Underground winked on. Thus far, Sarah had failed to find any recognizable shapes in the few scattered stars above; they were nothing like the myriad constellations and flickering hosts of the heavens visible in her home-world.

"Well, child, it looks like we made it," Sarah said, her gaze fixed on the rolling waves below her shelter. "Perhaps tomorrow we'll find a way to get over the ocean. Who knows? Maybe mermaids lurk in the waters, just waiting to help weary travelers like you and I."

Her baby moved beneath her hand, kicking against it softly with a gentle 'nudge' of amusement directed at Sarah. She laughed, "I know child, but I can hope, can't I? Everything is possible here."

The baby nudged her again, a serious, questioning tone she'd begun to recognize as the baby's attempt to ask about Jareth. At times, she could almost swear she 'heard' the word Daddy somewhere in her mind when the baby reached out to her this way.

"I know, baby," she crooned, rubbing her stomach softly. "We'll find him, I promise." She was silent for a moment and the baby in her womb seemed to recognize its mother's need for privacy. Eventually, she looked down at where her hand rested gently against her belly and sighed. "Would you like to hear a song, baby? It's a song your father sang to me once…a long, long time ago…"

The baby kicked against her hand. "I'll take that as a yes."

Sarah took a deep breath and began to sing and as she did, the wind carried her voice across moonlit sand, where it was lost among the crashing waves.

_There's such a sad love,_

_Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale jewel_

_Open and closed within your eyes_

_I'll place the sky within your eyes…_

* * *

Sarah awoke at daybreak to the sound of a seabird calling raucously nearby. Through the slit of one eye she could see a black and grey bird in the tree above her crying loudly to its airborne companions. Moaning, she rolled over and attempted to ignore the disruption. However, she soon realized that she couldn't fall back asleep with so much noise. Sitting up slowly and gingerly, she rubbed her sore back and raked the coals of her fire to relight it.

Soon, a cheery fire crackled in the firepit and a flat stone from nearby allowed her to bake her waybread into a delightful toast, which she smothered with butter and a succulent jam of an unknown fruit—another gift from Nona. When breakfast was finished, she licked her fingers and lips greedily, unwilling to let a single drop of the fruity concoction go to waste.

The sights and sounds of the beach at dawn made her nostalgic for her youthful beach vacations with her parents—and Karen, when her dad had remarried. Feeling suddenly childish, she took off her overdress, socks, and underthings and went careening wildly down the beach to play among the waves.

The first wave hit her like an old-friend's embrace and she dug her feet into the sand to feel it pool out from underneath her toes with the receding tide. She giggled girlishly and ran straight for another oncoming wave, letting it crash over her head and pull her hair out from the messy knot she'd haphazardly done up the night before. Waves and hair cascaded down her back in soft rivulets.

She squealed and laughed like a schoolgirl on holiday, running in and out of the waves until she was too tired to stand. When she could no longer resist the pull of the tide against her ankles, she walked a few feet up the beach and lay on her back in the sunlight, letting the warm rays dry her off. From afar, she looked like the little mermaid, bereft of her fins and cast ruthlessly onto the beach to await her fate. But she was no helpless mermaid and the beach was more a friend than an enemy. She dug her body into the warm sand and sighed contentedly.

She closed her eyes and twirled her hair absent-mindedly around her fingers, thinking of Jareth. Having not cut her hair in almost a year, it reached down to her waist. Small tendrils of ebony hair curled around her swollen belly where one arm was thrown carelessly across it.

"Did you have fun, baby?" she asked aloud. "I did. I wish you could truly enjoy the ocean like I do; being inside my belly while I'm dancing around in the waves is hardly the way to really enjoy it. Perhaps one day you will be able to frolic in the waves and build sand-castles for your father to demolish. Hmmm…I wonder if there is a beach near the Goblin Kingdom? I'll have to ask Jareth…"

* * *

Sarah drifted in and out of sleep. The warmth of sun and sand made her drowsy and the rhythmic tide lulled her to unconsciousness. After an hour of dozing, a loud splash nearby startled her. Worried that someone would find her sunbathing naked on the beach, Sarah sat up hurriedly, scanning the waves for the source of the sound.

A few yards from the shore, a silvery fish jumped ecstatically through the water, making huge splashes every time it landed. Sarah let out her breath and relaxed her shoulders.

"It's only a fish," she muttered. "All that adrenaline for nothing more than an overly excited piece of wildlife."

Brushing the sand off and shaking out her hair, Sarah returned to her shelter to get dressed and grab another meal. Reaching into her pack to pull out her water flask, she swore loudly, "Damn! I'm out of water. Looks like I need to make a trip to the stream. Oh well, I probably need to wash the sand out of my hair, too."

She grabbed her flask and walked barefoot to the stream, heading away from the mouth of the river where the water would be unfit to drink. A couple hundred paces upstream she found a small brook bubbling near the stream and, stooping, filled her belly and her flask with the cool, crisp water until both were satiated.

She stood up to head back to her shelter but a flash of something silver darting through the air caught her eye followed by a loud splash. _Is it that fish again? Did it _follow_ me here? _She shook herself mentally. _Don't be mad, Sarah, why would a fish follow you? It isn't as though it knows who you are or anything. _

But that was precisely what it looked like. Sarah walked the whole length of the stream back to the beach and the fish followed her the entire way, jumping and splashing merrily along beside her. To test her hypothesis, she stopped at the mouth of the stream; the fish stopped jumping and swam up to the shore, peering at her with one eye. _Okay,_ she thought. _That's just creepy._

Seeing that it had gained her attention, the fish began to jump crazily, as if seeking to communicate with her.

_What the—wait, that fish looks…familiar…somehow—where would I have met a fish?_ She racked her brain for any memory of a fish within her past year in the Underground. A thought struck her—the very same day she had met the eagles, she recalled a fish flopping helplessly on a rocky riverbank.

"Are you—" she began, "no, you couldn't be, could you? The fish I let go into the river? Oh, here I go again. Sarah, you must be going crazy, you're talking to a fish!"

The fish vaulted out of the water and did a somersault before landing back in the water near her unshod feet.

"Is that a yes?" _Oh great, now I think the fish is trying to talk to me._ The fish did another series of aerial acrobatics. _Could it be? Either way, what's the harm? If it _is_ trying to talk to me, maybe it can help. If not, then I've wasted an afternoon talking to a fish and no one would be the wiser. I can just leave this part out when I tell Jareth what happened._

"Um…so…what can I do for you…Mr. Fish?" She asked politely, a bright red flush of embarrassment creeping slowly onto her cheeks.

The fish jumped once, turned upstream, and led her past the brook she had visited earlier to a place where the river bent westward—toward Decima's cottage. It halted near a patch of overgrown riverweeds and began to swim feverishly in circles. Sarah could see nothing to cause it such excitement, but hiking her skirt up over her boots, she waded into the thick stand of weeds with long stalks and a pinkish-brown brush of fuzz on the end—resembling a sort of sunburnt cattail.

Moving among the stalks, Sarah soon discovered what had caused the fish's animated acrobatics: a boat roughly the size for one person to sit comfortably was hidden amongst the towering weeds.

Sarah squealed delightedly, looking around for the fish in order to thank it properly. It was gone. She sent up a silent prayer to whatever gods or fates were looking out for her and turned ashore.

Not wanting to risk being pulled out to sea without her provisions, Sarah ran back to her camp to collect her things. It was roughly an hour past noon, giving her enough time to sail out to sea for an hour or so—to get a feel for the sea and scout a few miles down the coast—before returning to shore and resting for the night. She hastily packed up, buried her fire and walked back to the waiting boat.

Once there, she was delighted to find that the boat had a collapsible sail and mast as well as a set of sturdy oars. It was also equipped with a hanging lantern for the prow, should she wish to sail at night, and a coil of rope to keep her boat secured to land.

After struggling a few moments with the mass of overgrown reeds, Sarah maneuvered her boat to the river and clambered aboard, nearly tipping the boat in the process because of her awkward midsection. Once safely on board, by using one of the oars as a pole, she was able to position her boat in the center of the river, where the swift current carried her downstream to the open sea.

At the mouth of the river, she had to manipulate the boat using the oars a second time, to avoid running into the river delta or one of many numerous sandbars lounging in the shallow waters. However, the elusive shoals did not trap her for long and she was soon sailing on the open waters, sail raised and one hand each on the rudder and sail-line.

The gentle rolling of the waves beneath the boat thrilled her and the splash of salt spray on her face was exhilarating. Her baby kicked a few times and sent waves of pleasure into her mind. Mother and child were both having the time of their lives.

They soon passed through the tidal pull toward shore and reached calmer, more serene waters. A north wind puffed them southward toward what Sarah hoped to be the opposite shore but she was wary of traveling too far on her first voyage so she had to tack against the wind to keep from getting too far out of sight of the shore. Though not experienced much with sailing, Sarah felt encouraged at her early success and felt her confidence growing with every passing moment.

"It's not so hard," she averred, reeling in the sail to avoid overfilling it with the northern gusts. "I can do this."

* * *

Toward late afternoon—when Sarah was beginning to think it time to head to land—the wind grew more fierce and she found it increasingly harder to turn shoreward. Unconcerned, Sarah manipulated the rudder and sail with a gentle hand, prodding her craft toward the shore.

In a sudden gust of wind, Sarah lost control of the sail. It billowed outward, pregnant with wind and eager for more; frantically, she sought to regain control but the wind was too strong for her unskilled arms. She was no sailor and though she fought hard to reel in the sail, the wind was stronger than she.

Her little skiff raced through the choppy waves, intent on the far horizon rather than the safety of the sands. Hope and the shore receded fast behind her and were finally lost beyond the skyline. Her whole world was now a vast expanse of blue: the fading blue of the sky and the sapphire blue of the ocean depths beneath her. To her increased horror, the western sky was growing dark and ominous with storm clouds. Escape homeward was out of the question. Her only goal now was to reach the far shore before the storm overcame her.

Soon, even that hope was lost as the north wind died down and her sail drooped against the mast. In a flash, the gale was upon her. The winds howled around her and the waves turned from sapphire blue to stormy grey; white caps appeared like a winter's first dusting of snow and the pounding waves lashed against the little boat. Her hair and clothing were soon soaked with salt spray and no matter how quickly she rowed her oars, she felt like she was getting nowhere.

Rain began to fall in heavy sheets but Sarah could hardly discern which water fell from the sky and which was churned up from below. Her whole world turned into roiling, churning whirl of water and wind. A lighting bolt flashed across the sky and the sound of thunder surrounded her. She felt increasingly small and insignificant, a leaf caught in a tornado.

Just when she thought she could stand no more of the churning waves, the wind whipped into a frenzy and a series of waves swept over her boat. Sarah and her belongings were tossed overboard as her boat capsized beneath the water. She watched in terror as a wave picked her little craft up and smashed it to pieces on the hard surface of the churching sea. Sarah struggled against the water, seeking to gain control of her limbs and swim—somewhere, anywhere. She was fighting for survival.

The waves surrounding her seemed to have died down a bit, and she breathed a sigh of relief. However, her reprieve was cut short when she felt the water beneath her start to surge, reaching toward the sky in protest. The wave picked her up and carried her through the air and back to the sea. She hit the water hard and her head spun dizzily. Her fingers brushed something hard—a piece her ship?—and an instant later another hard something hit the back of her skull.

She fought against the darkness and lost. The last thing she remembered seeing was her pack drifting away across the sea in front of her and the distant flash of something tan bobbing in and out of her vision. Then, nothingness.

**

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Hahaha, I leave you with a cliffhanger!! What is going to happen next? You shall just have to come back and see!**

**As always, please review; it let's me know that you are enjoying your reading and encourages me to keep it coming. Thanks!**


	25. Prophecy and Magic

**Sorry about the long wait folks. I honestly had no intention of leaving you with that cliffhanger for so long, but whenever I sat down to write this week, nothing came out—nothing coherent that is—so it took me much longer to write than usual. Maybe the kids are siphoning off my creativity. Who knows? Regardless, I hope this is well worth the wait.**

* * *

"So, are you going to tell me what my purpose is in the grand plan to save the world?" Jareth asked. "Or am I supposed to guess?"

"You don't need to guess, Jareth. I believe you'll find the answers you need within the very walls of this cave. However," Apollo amended, "I regret that for a time, I must leave you. I have urgent business that I cannot delay."

"The end of the world was urgent enough that you forced unpleasant dreams on me so that I would talk to you," Jareth retorted. He was convinced that his nightmares had not been coincidental, considering how easily Apollo had interpreted them to his own advantage.

Apollo deflected the barb as if it were no more than a fly; he was not the type to do battle on a whim. "Who said I forced you to dream, Jareth? I do not have mind control; illusions are your business, not mine."

"Perhaps," Jareth reluctantly admitted, stung slightly at the subtle accusation. Crossing his arms, he raised an eyebrow skeptically at his host. "But you were the one who suggested I sleep. You may think us uninformed, but those who dwell in the Underground still remember and pass down the stories of what you and your family did in the Aboveground. I need not say more than the Oracle at Delphi—those poor girls. Do you particularly like goat entrails or did you just like to see the humans poke them for answers they couldn't possibly contain?"

For the first time since the Goblin King's arrival, Apollo smiled. His teeth glittered against his gleaming skin—diamonds sparkling against a golden setting—and for a split second, Jareth understood why so many of the human women were so willing to surrender their innocence to the Olympian men. Apollo's smile was as guileless as it was infinitely charming, unlike the mischievous smirk Hermes continually wore. Whereas the latter may appeal to women the strength and wit to enjoy the challenge, Apollo's smile engendered trust to all who beheld it, despite the devilry behind it.

"I admit it," Apollo chuckled. "I did get my own brand of entertainment at their expense. Unlike Hermes, I never truly harmed anyone, simply misled them. Being a connoisseur of wisdom makes you susceptible to find amusement at other's folly. I enjoyed both their discomfort and their feeble attempts at divination. They were so silly, really, like children poking at mechanical toys to see how they work and unable to admit that they hadn't a clue.

"And despite your self-righteous accusations, Jareth, you would have been just as amused as I. Remember, I know how you treated Sarah when she came to your Labyrinth. I've seen it. Were the Cleaners a harmless prank? And the Bog of Eternal Stench? By the gods, that place is foul!"

A muscle in Jareth's jaw clenched, "I had my reasons, which you should know if your understanding is as acute as your visions are accurate."

"It is, which is why I do not berate you for your actions, merely point out that they are not so very different from my own. I know you had reasons, Jareth. So did I." Apollo's smile faded. "And now, I must depart, for despite your dislike of my half-brother, he is necessary."

"Hermes. What need to I possibly have for that traitorous scoundrel?" Jareth spat.

"Do you not recall what his purpose is in the Underworld? He's the guide. Without him, we cannot hope for an audience with Hades."

"Hades?"

"Yes, Hades—called Pluto by some and Orcus by others. He is Lord of the Underworld," Apollo said acidly, "making this pleasant countryside you've been frolicking in his personal Labyrinth—if you will pardon the analogy. Though the rest of us have lost our power, he still reigns supreme in this wretched land and if you hope to leave it, you would be stupid to shun him. Hades doesn't like being ignored."

"And I suppose your half-brother is the only person capable of gaining an audience with one as powerful and mercurial as Hades?" Jareth snorted derisively and rolled his eyes.

Apollo nodded and turned to face the entrance, calling over his shoulder. "While I am away, I suggest you use your time wisely." With a slight wave of dismissal, Apollo left Jareth standing motionless in the cave—his mismatched eyes unfocused and distant.

* * *

Time elapsed slowly in the unchanging landscape. Without the cyclical motion of sun and moon to guide him, Jareth couldn't discern if it had been one hour or twelve since Apollo had left. His mind refused to coalesce into productive contemplation and for the first time in his life that he could remember, he missed the goblin hullabaloo. Mayhem distracted him; silence made him both sullen and restless. Weighed down with a growing ennui, he scanned the cave in search of something to pique his interest.

Apollo's home was very simply laid out: a central cavernous space leading to the outside world with a few small alcoves branching off. Jareth's 'inspired' bout with nightmares had occurred in one of these alcoves and he presumed Apollo used another for his own rest—if the sage immortal _did_ sleep, that is.

Jareth passed by the small rooms with no more than a cursory glance; there was nothing in them to hold his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he discerned a slight movement, a whisper of light in the otherwise gloomy cave. Turning his attention to the far side of the room, he perceived a fissure in the cavern wall heretofore unseen.

It was from this that the faint glow of blue light breezed gently toward him, beckoning him seductively. At first glance he could tell it was not one of the sleeping bays, which had been dark since his arrival. The thin tendrils of white smoke snaking into the room as if they were the tentacles of a ravenous creature and the light, its prey, further piqued his curiosity.

He wondered briefly if Apollo weren't trying to trick him, but despite his own misgivings, he was drawn inexorably toward the dimly lighted corridor. Unlike the rest of the cave, the dank smell of must and earth was masked by the thick, cloying scent of incense. High above his head—like stars viewed through the fine veil of an autumn mist—tiny blue flames winked at him. The pale light and heady aroma heightened his senses; his breathing roared in his ears and the sound of his footfalls in the mountain echoed louder than thunderclaps.

Before him, the hallway stretched onward with no end in sight.

Suddenly, Jareth felt a cool rush of air caress his face and a few strands of wild blonde hair tickled his cheek softly. To his left, a black hole in the wall yawned wide as if seeking to swallow him alive. He hesitated, but his lungs and brain were overfull with incense, making the fresh air too tempting to ignore.

He stepped into the blackness, half-expecting the floor to give way beneath him as he fell headlong into nothingness. Instead, light suddenly flared around him and he squeezed his eyelids together tightly against the glare. He breathed deeply of fresh air devoid of any trace of incense. Prying one eye open, he found the light less overpowering than it had seemed at first. Indeed, the only source of illumination appeared to be a wrought-iron lantern resting contemplatively on a carved desk.

Jareth shook his head, convinced that the light and incense in the hall had disoriented him. The only other logical explanation was that the winking blue lights and heady aroma of incense had caused hallucinations and light-sensitivity. There were many drugs that, when burned, could produce side effects similar to what he had experienced, even in the Underworld. Yet the effects wore off immediately upon exiting the influence of the strange corridor, leaving Jareth unsure as to the cause of the optical illusion.

Compartmentalizing the conundrum, Jareth surveyed his new surroundings with some interest. A cursory glance told him that he had chanced upon a study of some kind. Numerous bookshelves filled to capacity lined the walls from floor to ceiling on two sides of the room. On the front and back walls, someone—presumably Apollo—had mounted a wide variety of musical instruments, mostly stringed instruments but a few woodwinds and a number of panflutes, each with a different number of pipes, were interspersed between them.

On the fourth wall opposite him sat the desk upon which the single light source squatted studiously. The light streaming from the wrought iron lamp provided enough illumination for Jareth to discern that most, if not all, of the books lining the shelves were of human origin: histories, biographies, philosophy books, a smattering of epic poetry and a even a few collections of myths and fables.

"He must find humanity more intriguing that I suspected," Jareth noted with some amusement. "I suppose we have that in common." He browsed briefly, but soon turned his attention to the only other pieces of furniture in the room: the hand-carved desk and matching chair.

The desk had neither drawer nor cabinet to mar its smooth, Doric lines. The legs rose regally from the floor like the columns of a Grecian temple. Yet, however clean the workmanship, the workspace was far from impeccable. To one side, a stack of papyrus sheaves—which turned out to be sheet music—sat untidily beside a squat inkwell and stone cup containing quills. A number of parchment books bound in sheepskin were piled haphazardly, littering the only remaining space on the desk not occupied with musical notations and the iron lampstand.

Uninterested in the human works, Jareth scanned the opened books on the desk carelessly. He correctly assumed them to belong to his host and the thought of reading Apollo's personal journals appealed to his impish character. Flipping idly through them, he found very little to satisfy his overactive curiosity until halfway through the second volume. A third of the way down the page he saw the following, written in a strong, confident hand:

_I received another vision today while I was on the bank of the Great River—I find it so soothing to sit beside the waters as they roll past, the perfect place to clear my head when I'm too overburdened with the present to see the future intelligibly. I'm surprised no one has found me out and invaded my secret retreat (I can't say I'm not grateful they haven't). Aphrodite would assume I come here to tryst and probably try to interrupt (or join in), which would hamper my work considerably. The only other one who might care is Artemis, but she is too respectful a sister to pry; she understands my need for solitude, especially with nature to surround me and bolster my energy. She's the same as I that way. Still, I wonder why no humans have found my hideaway either; they're prone to wander into places they shouldn't. Perhaps Zeus is protecting my privacy, for which I can be grateful; either way, I'm happy to enjoy the serenity by myself. The sound of birds and the fresh wind sing in harmony with the rippling waters below; the flow of energy here is magnificent. _

_Where was I? Ah yes, the vision. It concerns the Dark World and the tragic curse my father placed on it when he banished his relatives there so long ago. I saw a child—the same mystical child I have seen before whenever I focus my energy on the magic surrounding the Dark World. He was but an infant babe in his mother's arms this time and she crooned to him softly in her strange accent. It sounds so…formal, archaic (befitting a race lost to time and influence from outsiders). Both mother and child are from the Dark World, at least I presume so, otherwise why would they appear in my visions when I consider that banished place?_

_In all, the vision was of no consequence regarding content, but it does fit with a growing pattern that I have yet to distinguish. Every time I turn my inner eye and energy to the place we are forbidden by my father to mention, every time I think of it, I see this child who is not yet a man. Even at a distance I can sense his aura—magical energy beyond compare. More, even, than my father. It makes me wonder…why is this child so important? If only the Dark World were not cut off from this one; then, I might be able to see more clearly. Were that so, however, this child would likely have very little importance. Ah, now that is something to consider…_

The account trailed off there and the next few pages were absent of any further information regarding the infant boy Apollo had seen. Neither did it hold much to intrigue the Goblin King's waspish delight in mocking all things asinine, for it dealt almost exclusively with happenings in Aboveground history and a few gossipy tidbits regarding the lives of his very distant relatives. He bypassed these pages with no more than a cursory glance. There was one entry, however, roughly ten pages from the end of the book, which immediately attracted his attention. The handwriting was the same, but oddly agitated and slightly scrawled:

_A very strange vision today. I was, again, in my usual spot by the river, contemplating the Dark World and hoping for more insight into the boy-child with great magic. What I saw instead was quite bizarre and unexpected. Instead of a boy-child, I saw a beautiful woman, a human by the look of it. _

_She had long hair that swept her back as gracefully as a raven wing brushes the sky. Her eyes held green fire—a bright light flashing fiercely against the porcelain tint of her flawless skin. She looked roughly marriageable age* but she was dressed neither in the clothing of a virgin nor of a married woman; her clothing was very strange. Instead of a peplos or chiton, she wore a second skin of blue on her legs—truly, I have never seen this kind of garment anywhere nor do I know what to call it! Her overgarment was far too short to be a tunic and over it a sort of vest, though of what cloth, I am again left speechless._

_What shocked me most was that she is clearly human; there is no trace of magical energy about her anywhere. How does this strange woman have any relationship with the Dark World? She must be from another time, a future time. But what does a human woman from the future have to do with my father's curse? How could she possibly be involved? Who is this green-eyed beauty and what could she possibly have in common with the boy-child from the Dark World? He cannot get to her and she cannot get to him because of the curse. Ah! My mind aches with puzzles! Alas that I do not yet see perfectly what the mists of time carry hidden in their bosoms. _

—_Perhaps I should visit the Three Sisters. They are not known for being generous with their knowledge, but they might offer a few table scraps to the dog that comes humbly to their banquet. Clotho** has always been fond of me. I might be able to wheedle something out of her if I'm charming enough. I shall have to head back to Olympus soon if I am to go. They always love my stewed meat and I'll need time to prepare it. It wouldn't hurt to bring along an instrument or two as well; music charms the soul. _

"Sarah," Jareth whispered, instantly recognizing the apt description of his beloved wife. "So, Apollo saw her, too did he? That's interesting. I wonder why. She must be more important than he was willing to confess openly." He smirked arrogantly at the memory of his conversation, "And he told me nothing good came of immortals interacting with humans. What a bald-faced liar he is! She's clearly important enough to a part of his visions regarding the Dark World— which I can only assume is the Underground.

"Yet…" Jareth hesitated, "that still doesn't explain _why_ he saw her at all…Could it be simply that she is the one who defeated my Labyrinth and thus sent me here to Erebus so that I might discover what I am supposed to do?" Jareth tapped his chin, one dangling foot swinging in time with the rhythm of his thoughts.

"Intriguing, but that doesn't seem like enough. Sarah must have greater importance to what Apollo claims is _my_ task than he was willing to admit. I have to keep searching these tomes; perhaps he saw more of her that might give me a clue to how she is involved…and while I'm at it, maybe I can find out more about how to reverse his father's curse. Given what he divulged earlier, there can be no doubt that the boy with the magic is I."

Full of self-importance, Jareth leafed through the last few pages of the book but the final entries were insipidly uninteresting, so he returned the book to the desk and picked up another. To say his curiosity was piqued would have been an understatement. On the contrary, the customarily unruffled Goblin King was quite agitated. Eager as he was for more information regarding Apollo's visions, he rifled through the remaining books on the desk. Even his own troubled mind could not discern whether he longed to see his own name or that of his Queen written on the thick pages running like water through his fingers.

He study divulged ample information about himself—most of which he already knew since it differed little from what Apollo had told already him. He found an entry describing Apollo's revelation that he would be the one to undo Zeus' curse and heal the fraying magic holding the three worlds together, but it did not describe the problem in detail, much less how such healing would be accomplished. Much to his disappointment, he gained no new information from the other volumes on how he was to 'heal' the fractured magic nor did he find any entries that included Sarah.

Frustrated at his lack of progress and feeling that he had wasted his time, Jareth slammed the last of the books down on the desk with an indignant grunt. He heard the soft _snick_ of a metal lever being activated and a section of wood on the front panel of the desk pulled a hairsbreadth a way from the rest of the woodwork. He pried at it with his fingers but nothing moved. The secret panel was stuck.

He searched the desk for something thin and sharp to prize open the panel and found a long, thin knife used for cutting papyrus into sheets for binding. Inserting the tip into the thin slit, Jareth worked the end of the knife under the panel in a few deft movements of his skilled hands. Within seconds, the panel of wood lay on the desk and whatever had been cached behind would soon be brought to light.

Jareth slid three fingers into the narrow opening searchingly. His fingertips brushed soft leather and, closing around the desired object, withdrew a single, thin volume of fine paper bound and strapped in black leather.

It seemed a strange thing to hide in a secret panel in the bottom of a desk. The appearance gave no indication that the contents were dangerous or confidential and Jareth concluded that there was no reasonable explanation for the book's location. For, even if the book were somehow private, no one could possibly want to steal it.

"We're in Hell," Jareth scoffed. "Who would want to steal a book?"

The thought then occurred to him that the book had been purposefully planted in the secret panel to arouse his interest. Perhaps its importance would have escaped him had it been left on the desk or one of the shelves—if the latter, the likelihood of him giving it a second thought was slim, that is, if he had been able to find it in the first place. If the former, he might not have perused it carefully, supposing it to be another journal of Apollo's visions.

A secret panel, however, _that_ aroused his interest instantly. A master of secrecy and illusion, Jareth was prone to find such arts intriguing when employed by others. He hated being out-maneuvered at his own game and prided himself on being able to see into and through disguises of all sorts. Apollo, no doubt, knew this and used the information for his own advantage.

"He conned me into finding this," Jareth acknowledged with no little approbation. He had to admire the fellow's audacity and cunning. Apollo had successfully manipulated the Goblin King so deftly that Jareth had not been aware of what was happening to him. Jareth grinned and saluted his absent host, "Bravo, Apollo. Well done, I must say. Now, let's see what is inside this book you so desperately wanted me _not_ to know you wanted me to find?"

He untied the leather cord and flipped it open. The words "_Healing: Energy and Magic_"were emblazoned across the first page in silver lettering.

"Well, well, well," Jareth purred. "What have we here? More dreams and visions? Or perhaps, something more."

Jareth flipped through the first few pages of the book avidly and it wasn't long before he understood why Apollo had planned for him to uncover this book. And why he had gone to such lengths to hide it in order that Jareth would understand its importance. The information contained within this thin volume could change the way all creatures—kings and citizens alike—existed in the Underground. If Apollo was correct, it could save the world.

Suddenly, he knew he couldn't sit in the room any longer. He had to leave, to find someway of getting out of the Underworld no matter what the cost to himself. He rose excitedly and, in his haste, did not realize he was no longer alone in the room.

His body hit something solid where nothing but air should have been. Jareth lifted his eyes from the book in his hands and his mismatched blue ones met Apollo's golden ones.

"We must leave now," Jareth said brusquely, ignoring Apollo's slightly stunned expression and walking past him. "I have no time to explain, Apollo; I'm certain you're already aware of what I have discovered—seeing as you planted it there for me to find."

But before Apollo could make a reply, Jareth strode past him and into the heavily incensed hallway leading back to the cave. When he arrived in the central chamber, he found Hermes lounging dejectedly on the floor. His apparel looked markedly shabbier since Jareth had dismissed him and the wings bedecking his cap, sandals and staff drooped dispiritedly.

"Take me to Hades," Jareth commanded, startling Hermes out of his despair. "Whatever I thought or think of you doesn't matter in the slightest so quit feeling sorry for yourself and do something useful for a change. Come, come, Hermes, you mustn't wallow."

Hermes gaped, looking frog-like and pitiful in his bewilderment. Jareth tapped his foot impatiently. He wished he had his riding crop with him to knock some sense into the bemused immortal. The man looked positively idiotic, like a goblin trying to figure out whether 'imbicile' was his name or an insult.

"Well?" Jareth quipped nastily, a touch of arrogant importance leaking into his voice as he crossed his arms impatiently over his chest.

"You heard him," Apollo prodded calmly, taking a single, measured step into the room to join them. "Hades awaits."

**

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* In the Greco-Roman era, women were married far younger than they are today. At the very youngest, they were married off as early as twelve to fourteen years of age. (It coincided with the onset of puberty and thus, the ability to bear children) Late teens (sixteen to eighteen) would be the latest they would get married. It may sound weird now, but since the average lifespan was roughly 30-40 years old, early marriage meant more time to have lots of babies, which is what the ancients wanted! (sometimes women would not marry in order to dedicate themselves to serving a goddess, like Hestia for example, but this was not the norm for most girls). Hopefully this makes sense of Apollo's observation that Sarah was 'roughly marriageable age'.**

**** Clotho is the Greek name for Nona (Roman), the first of the three sisters. Since Apollo was first a Greek deity, I have him using the original Greek name for this goddess rather than the Roman name, which I have the Undergrounders using because they despised the Olympians.**

**Anyhoodle, I hope you liked it and were not too disappointed after the long wait. Again, I'm sorry, but my brain was refusing to work this week! Leave a review and I'll love you forever ;)**


	26. Castaway

**Another one bites the dust—another chapter that is! I'm so grateful to everybody who has left me a review. And remember folks, if you leave one, I promise to personally thank you in my last chapter! Enjoy your reading and have sweet dreams tonight, I'm off to bed. **

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"_Now, what was it I was looking for? I can't quite recall…"_

Sarah's thoughts were hazy, dull, like a fine morning mist without sunlight to dissipate it. She tried to speak but couldn't; her words clung to the roof of her mouth like cotton. She swung her head from side to side to clear her head, but the movement instead left her feeling off balance. She held out one hand to steady herself and her palm felt the cool touch of stone beneath it.

She swung her head slowly to see that her hand was resting upon an immense limestone wall. She reached out her other hand and felt the same stone beneath it. High above her befuddled head the walls curved gracefully together to form a vaulted ceiling.

"_Why am I here? What is this place? Where….?"_

Moving ahead down the dimly lit hall frightened her, but the only other option was to stand bemusedly in the hallway until she died of hunger—a skeleton to warn indecisive travelers. Disgusted by her own morbidity, she placed one foot in front of the other and advanced to the other end of the corridor to discover what fate had in store for her.

"_I know it's around here somewhere…but…what is it, again?"_ A memory flitted in front of her, but whizzed off when she reached out to take it. _"What was I doing? Oh, right, walking."_

She was still having trouble thinking clearly. She was certain she was looking for something, something important but she couldn't think what would be so valuable she would come to this strange place to find it. Intent on clearing the cobwebs from her mind, she wasn't watching where she was going and had she not chosen that precise moment to look down, she would have tumbled headlong down a flight of stone steps.

The sudden appearance of stairs jolted her back to the present, one foot hovering dangerously over the open air.

"_Curious,"_ she thought mildly. _"I wonder where these go?"_

Looking up, she realized how mistaken her question had been. The real question was, where _didn't_ they lead? For, the stairway she inhabited led to another, ascending staircase, which appeared to lead sideways to a stone causeway. The causeway ended abruptly in another set of stairs, but there was something askew about them, as if they existed on a separate plane from Sarah's. In fact, the whole room seemed to lack depth and coherence in any dimension, as if there were a vast number of different dimensional planes all intersecting in a jumble of stairs, doors, paths, and arches.

She felt an unnerving sense of déjà vu but she couldn't comprehend when she could have seen a room like this. She took a deep breath and stepped onto the first stair. Music began to float around her but she could not locate the source. It was as if it came from every direction at once. Someone began to sing.

"_How you turn my world you precious thing."_

She looked everywhere to find the singer, but the twisting stairs and nonsensical passages and pathways confused her. Her mind reeled.

"_You starve and near exhaust me."_

She took another few steps down into the chaos.

"_Everything I've done, I've done for you. I move the stars for no-one."_

She thrashed her head from side to side wildly, unsuccessfully searching for the singer; the song frightened her. She called out, "Who are you?" The only reply was the beat of the music throbbing menacingly around her.

"_You've run so long. You've run so far."_

She paused to listen more closely, wary of taking another step while her heart pounded so heavily in her ears. The voice sounded eerily familiar, yet somehow…different. The song itself was familiar—a memory teasing the edges of her mind like a child playing hide-and-go-seek. But the voice…no it wasn't right. It was harsher, more threatening. There was no sense of suppressed yearning in this voice, and she knew somehow that yearning was necessary for the voice to be the one she knew.

"_Your eyes can be so cruel. Just as I can be so cruel."_

A chill wind ruffled her long ebony hair and she shivered. Glancing about to find the source of the wind, she saw a dark figure emerging from the archway across from her. The chill deepened, reaching down into the marrow of her bones. Her heart skipped a beat and she had to clench her fists at her side to keep her arms from trembling.

She could not see the figure's face or any other features, for he was shrouded from head to toe in a cloak blacker than midnight. It looked like it had been made of liquid darkness and it rippled as if caught in a light breeze, though the rush of chill wind had died down.

"Sarah."

She felt, rather than heard him call her name, if it was a 'he'. The voice was masculine enough, but the heavy shroud cloaked any further identification. She felt a strange pull deep inside her, as if someone had reached inside her chest and was seeking to remove her heart while it was still beating inside her. Without thinking, she drew her arms upward and placed both hands on her chest above her heart.

"Who are you?" asked Sarah, her voice cracking slightly with fear. The creature did not move or speak, but she could feel its eyes boring into hers from beneath its inky cowl.

"You have something I want, don't you?" Sarah asked again. She briefly wondered how she had known that. _I came here to find something, didn't I?_ Her mind answered. In fact, as soon as the creature had appeared, she'd known instinctively that he had what she wanted, what she had come for. _But what is it?_

Again the creature remained silent in the face of her inquiries, but before she was aware that she was speaking, she found herself saying, "I want my husband back."

She didn't know why she said that, but again, she realized instinctively that her statement was true. This man, creature, whatever he was, had her husband and she needed him back. She would do anything to get him back.

"Do you now?" The figure rasped and Sarah thought she heard the sound of chuckling issuing from under the hood—like sandpaper on glass. He sought to intimidate her, but truth gave her courage and she planted both feet firmly on the step before responding.

"Yes, if it isn't too much trouble, I'd like to have him back," Sarah said confidently.

"My dear girl, if you want him back, then you'll have to come and get him," croaked the figure with a mocking laugh.

Sarah realized that she was no longer standing on the stairway but was falling rapidly through the air. She could see the hooded figure gloating high above her and each second he receded even further into the distance. She cried out and thrashed wildly, like a fish cast out of a river.

Her head and back impacted hard against the ground and everything disappeared.

* * *

Sarah's eyes opened slowly. Her head ached as if it had been hit brutally by a blunt instrument. She tested the rest of her body and found that _everything_ ached. Her toes, her legs, her back, her arms, hell even her teeth ached. Gingerly, she forced herself up into a seated position on what she could now see was a mound of sand.

A quick glance left and right told her that sand was all she could see in either direction. She sat facing a thick copse of trees and shrubs she inferred to be the edge of a vast forest. Behind her, the sea lapped pleasantly at the shore and overhead, she could hear the call of sea birds.

_Was that all a dream? _She wondered. _But I can still hear that awful laughter ringing in my ears and see that horrid face. Or rather, lack of face…_

She shivered despite the warm sun beating down on her and wondered again how she had gotten here when her vision of the disorienting room had been so vivid. _Escher room_, she corrected mentally. And with that observation, everything came flooding back: the Labyrinth, Jareth, Toby, coming back to the Underground, Jareth, 'joining' with Jareth as his Queen and bride, his kidnapping and her quest to save him. She remembered everything.

"I must have gotten shipwrecked when that storm overcame my boat crossing the sea," Sarah concluded. "That must mean that this is the other side." That thought gave her hope, but it was immediately dashed.

The storm had swamped her boat and everything had been lost. Her pack—her sole possession in the wilderness of the Underground—had been swept overboard in front of her eyes and everything in it was likely resting in a coral reef or rocky shoal somewhere in the ocean. Her food, extra clothing, bedroll and, most importantly, the distaff and thread, were lost. She had no reason to go forward and every reason to abandon her quest and go home.

"We might as well give up now, baby," she said as a tear slid down her cheek. "We'll never free your father now." Completely hopeless, Sarah abandoned herself to tears, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. She felt an overwhelming sorrow, made more intense by the sadness communicated to her by her baby. Mother and child mourned together the loss of their beloved husband and father, as well as the end of their journey. Night fell; the moon rose, and still there was no end of weeping.

* * *

Sarah roamed aimlessly for the next few days, not caring where the shoreline took her as she ambled along the waterfront. She had little need to move quickly, as all hope of pressing onward was lost to the dancing waves that mocked her with their jubilant displays.

After five days, she discovered that she had not reached the opposite shore after all; the storm had instead washed her up on an island somewhere in the middle of the vast ocean. She had thought herself on a peninsula or sound of some kind, but the beach never ended. In her meanderings, she had walked the island full circle and not even noticed it. The only reason she recognized how far she'd come was that she found the stone marker she'd erected for herself in mourning—a kind of grave symbolizing the death of her hope.

She slept fitfully night after night, dreaming repeatedly of the hooded figure. No matter what landscape her dreams created, he was there. He mocked her, frightened her and bullied her for her insistence that he give her what she sought. She would awake shivering, his harsh laugh ringing loudly in her ears. Then, she would cry herself to sleep on the sand and fall again into her ceaseless nightmare.

She awoke one morning to the sound of cloth being ripped by something sharp. She opened her eyes and saw a black and grey seabird pecking at an object further down the beach, near the edge of the tide. The bird's back was to her and its body obstructed her view so she was unable to see what object had captured its attention. Nevertheless, she caught a glimpse of something dark green between the bird's legs, something familiar.

The long dead coals of hope flickered in her breast and she dared not believe what her mind and heart yearned for. She stood slowly, every movement under tight control lest she be overcome by hysterics.

At the sound of her footfalls on the sand, the bird cried out raucously and turned on her defensively, unwilling to let its treasure fall into enemy hands. Not in the least bit intimidated, Sarah waved her arms and yelled at the bird until if flew off in a flurry of feathers, its indignant cries unheeded by the triumphant woman.

"And don't you come back!" Sarah called mockingly, her hands planted firmly on her hips in gleeful victory. Smiling, she looked down to see what she'd won and cried out involuntarily. The bird's prize was none other than her lost pack.

To her surprise and delight, nothing was missing from her back but a few extra pairs of socks and a pair of replacement undergarments. The food was a sodden mess and had to be thrown out, but Sarah had spied several fruit trees amidst the thick copse of forest growing on the center of the island and she had high hopes of finding it edible. Thankfully, her lifethread and Nona's distaff were still safely stowed in the bottom pocket of the pack: she could resume her quest.

She laid the pack, her bedroll and what remained of her extra clothing—it wasn't much, just a light muslin dress and a pair of thick stockings for cold weather—out in the sun to dry. After making camp and setting up a ring of stones for a fire, she went in search of food to replace her depleted stores. When she had sated her ravenous appetite on fruit, some mushroom-like plants, and a cache of nuts she'd found, Sarah lay back on her dried bedroll, sighing contentedly.

"Tomorrow," she said as she curled into bed by the glowing embers of her cookfire. "Tomorrow, child, we'll look to find a way off this island.

The morrow brought good fortune and inspiration in the form of driftwood washed up by the waves. From the look of it, Sarah surmised that it was from her own small sailing vessel and promptly set about dragging it further up the beach so it wouldn't get washed away with the rising tide.

The sight of her craft had given her an idea, so the rest of the day and many days following were spent combing the wooded center of the island for fallen branches or trees. Every day brought fresh driftwood and by the end of a week, Sarah had enough wood to begin lashing them together to make a raft.

Finding a suitable binding agent, however, proved more laborious than Sarah had imagined. Not much of the rigging from her ship had washed ashore and the woods were not suitable for vine-growth. Determined not to lose heart, she eventually discovered that when dried, one of the wild grasses on the island could be braided or coiled together to form pliable strands capable of binding the wood planks together.

Another stroke of luck had brought a piece of her mast ashore, dragging the torn remnants of her sail along with it. The sail was useless, but the mast was still serviceable, so she attached it to the raft with more of the grass rope. She discarded the shredded sailcloth and reluctantly cut the seams of her bedroll so that it made one large square of cloth perfectly sized to serve as a sail.

All the pieces thus assembled, she completed her raft within two weeks. The task had been long and arduous, due in part to her lingering soreness and weariness from being tossed in the storm. However, her pregnancy contributed to the lingering aches and pains and the awkward position of her baby made it difficult for her to haul wood far without shifting her its position in her arms constantly. Additionally, infrequent bouts of morning sickness and a growing fatigue forced her to rest more frequently than she would have liked.

In the end, an entire month had passed before she was ready to set sail for the far shore and retrieve the third item. The sun shone bright on the morning of her departure and the air tingled with expectation. Refracted sunlight littered the splashing waves with motes of dancing light. The southward wind was fresh and strong—enough to get her to her destination without threatening her—and there was not even a hint of bad weather to mar the sky.

With a deep breath and a prayer on her lips, Sarah shoved the raft into the sea and hopped aboard. The shoreline proved a treacherous adversary starting out, but she managed to stay afloat with the help of a long pole of wood she'd stripped off a fallen tree. In a matter of minutes she had left the shoreline and was out in open sea.

The strong wind held all day long and in the last, dying rays of daylight Sarah could see a dark blur on the horizon. Sarah pressed on into the growing dark, guided only by the pale light of the few Underground stars and a faded moon. Every hour the dark shape increased in size like Leviathan rising slowly out of the ocean depths.

Near midnight, the waves began to foam beneath her raft and, soon thereafter, she heard a soft _thud_ as wood met sand. She threw herself wearily onto the beach, having enough presence of mind to grab her pack and stumble up the beach toward what appeared to be a pile of boulders. She no longer needed her raft and so willingly abandoned it to the waves. When the next morning came, she would remember neither how she clambered behind the enormous rocks nor how she ended up in her bedroll; all she would recall was the blessed feeling of sand between her toes when she first alighted from the raft and onto the beach.

* * *

The sun was high overhead when Sarah finally squirmed out of her pack to fix breakfast, or rather, brunch: fruit, nuts and some edible roots scavenged from a nearby thicket. She was parched and famished from her voyage, but she ate sparingly of her stores should she be unable to find anything later that day to replenish them. Her hunger slaked, she washed her hands in the sea, packed her gear and set off.

Perched atop one of the boulders that made up her ramshackle shelter, Sarah scanned the beach in either direction for some clue as to which direction she should travel. To her left, an unbroken train of sand dunes—their supple lines marred only by bits of scrub—meandered into the horizon as far as she could see. To her right, the sand transformed into a stony shoreline littered with tidal pools, boulders, and the pluming salt spray of waves crashing against the rocks.

For no reason other than that she was sick of sand, she chose the latter. The stone was harsh on her feet and the spray soon soaked both her clothing and hair until a fine crust of salt turned her skin and dress a leprous white. Still, she trudged onward, ignoring the abundant and unique wildlife that no doubt lurked in the pools by her feet, her eyes fixed on a distant promontory.

By mid afternoon, she reached the base of the cliff and began to ascend its face by means of a narrow path that zigzagged dangerously upward. Her goal was the black maw of a cave roughly halfway up the face of the cliff. She hoped to find it usable for a shelter to bed down in for the night as daylight was beginning to wane and she feared sleeping so close to the rocky clefts and defiles of the shore below lest the tide rise and she be trapped in a rocky grave. Till she could press beyond the stony paths, her only recourse for sleep was the cave, which would provide shelter against the wind and unpredictable waters.

Finding the cave, she entered it carefully yet quickly and walked a good distance inside, taking care to stand near one of the walls to keep her sense of direction. The inside was dank and gloomy and she could not see the back wall, though the afternoon sun shone full on the face of the cliff. The air smelt stale and dead. Shortly, she heard something stir and immediately froze. The cave was already occupied.

A low growl rent the air and Sarah backed into the wall of the cave behind her, trying to make herself as small and quiet as possible. She hoped that whatever beast she had stirred would soon forget that it had been roused.

She heard a snuffling sound nearby. _Oh, God,_ she thought. _It's trying to find me by smell, and I'm sure I positively _reek_ of saltwater and dead fish—not something you would readily smell this high off the water. _

She closed her eyes and tried not to panic, inching her way slowly down the wall toward the mouth of the cave. The heavy breathing and snuffling followed her. She could now hear the muffled tread of padded feet and the intermittent scraping of claws on the rough stone. At one point, she swore she felt a hot puff of air in her face; it stank of spittle and raw meat. Then suddenly, the sound and smell of the beast was gone.

She continued to inch her way slowly along the wall with her eyes shut tight against the sight of her unknown adversary. After what felt like hours, she felt the warm rays of the sun on her legs and could hear the distant crash of the sea against the base of the cliff. She opened her eyes slowly and gave a sigh of relief when she scanned the beast-less vicinity.

"It's gone, child," she said. "Whatever that thing was, it's gone."

All of a sudden, the hair on the back of Sarah's neck prickled. Turning to her right, what she had recently mistaken for a clump of dead brush amid a pile of boulders began to shudder and rise. It grew steadily taller and larger until the big, shaggy brown muzzle of a bear materialized in its midst.

"Oh, dear God," Sarah whispered in despair. Her knees buckled and she had to grab onto the wall behind her for support.

The beast was well over eight feet tall on all fours and Sarah could only imagine how tall it would be when it stood upright. It eyed her brutally and its thickly furred brown face looked far from pleased at being interrupted by such a scrawny intruder. Throwing back its head, it let out a terrifying roar and stood its full height. Sarah almost fainted.

Somehow, despite the fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins Sarah was able to feel a small nudge of encouragement from her baby. _Safe, momma_, the small 'voice' seemed to be saying to her. _I know, baby,_ she thought in return. _I want to get out of here alive, too. But that bear is standing in front of the path back down to the beach!_

She glanced about frantically for ways of escape other than the way she'd come and immediately saw the answer. The path she'd taken upward did not stop at the cave mouth; rather than halting there, it continued across the cliff face and she could see to her left the bend in the path that signaled it's continued ascent toward the top of the bluff.

Ever so slowly she crept backward toward the trail, never letting her eyes leave the bear as it continued to roar and posture its rage. When she reached the place where the level ground in front of the cave began to slope upward, she placed her back as flat as possible against the cliff face and crept slowly up the path—her attention placed alternately on the bear and the next portion of the trail. When she reached the switchback, the bear had lost interest in her and returned to its home, letting out one last roar of disapproval to prevent her return.

She exhaled sharply and realized that she had been holding her breath for a long time. "I can't believe we're safe, my darling," she crooned shakily. "I thought we were going to be that bear's lunch for certain!"

Her baby kicked gleefully, as if it was also eager to be rid of the threat of being eaten by an angry bear. Sarah chuckled in response and set her sights on the path before them.

Grateful to be rid of the beast and eager to find shelter before the last rays died away, Sarah flew up the remainder of the cliff as if suddenly gifted with hind's feet.* Shunning the precipice, Sarah journeyed further inland to where the edge of a forest met the short grasses topping the escarpment. She found a clearing quickly and as the red fingers of sunset stretched longingly through the trees to kiss her goodbye, she started a small fire with the ready store of tinder and bedded down eagerly for the night.

Sarah slept heavily that night and would have slept well into the morning had not a furred body disturbed her lassitude. Still groggy from her heavy slumber, Sarah reacted slowly to the heavy weight on her chest accompanied by a low, satisfied rumbling. Opening her eyes, she was immediately startled awake by the sight of warm, chocolate brown eyes staring back at her.

She opened her mouth to scream but a soft paw touched her lips and her scream died in her throat with a wet gurgle. Slowly, the eyes drew back so she could see the pointed, elfin features of the Sphinx gazing at her amusedly.

"I'm just a cat, Sarah. No need to be so afraid," the Sphinx purred. The corners of her feline mouth curved slightly into a grin and her whiskered shivered with silent delight. Sarah had the feeling she was being mocked.

"I'm not—but, I didn't think—I" Sarah floundered. "Oh! Why do you have to wake me up like that? It's rude to scare people out of their wits when they've almost been eaten by an inhumanely sized bear the night before." Sarah flushed angrily and sat up, forcing the Sphinx to jump from her belly onto a nearby tree stump.

"I'm sure the 'bear' as you call it was quite menacing, but there is no need to overdo it," said the Sphinx, her tail swishing gracefully in the dawn air. The Sphinx settled down comfortably on all fours and curled her tail around her legs. "Remember, you're a Queen of the Underground not a hormonal teenager.

"Though perhaps your hormones are to blame somewhat," the cat continued. She stared significantly at Sarah's protruding stomach. "You're well over six months pregnant."

"Hormones, shmoremones," Sarah retorted grumpily. "My hormones are just fine, thank you very much. I didn't _imagine_ that bear, or how tall it was."

"I admit that what you saw _looked_ like a bear," the Sphinx amended.

"Oh, what's the difference? I saw what I saw," said Sarah as she hastily threw together breakfast. "You don't happen to know anything helpful, do you? Like if there is a stream nearby?"

"In the first place, I know quite a lot of things, dear girl, many of which you wouldn't understand if I told you," the Sphinx raised her head haughtily in the air and preened. When she was satisfied that the proper reverence had been engendered in her audience, she continued. "Second of which, there happens to be a great deal of difference whether what you saw _was_ a bear or merely _looked_ _like_ a bear."

"I don't see the difference at all," Sarah replied.

The Sphinx let out a soft _whuff_ and blinked slowly. "Sarah, do you remember your time in the Labyrinth?"

"My hormones haven't messed with my memory at all," Sarah threw back sarcastically.

"Good," the cat replied, her eyes benign but firm—like a mother watching her child. "Do you recall how places that seemed a sheer wall were truly openings?"

"Certainly. That's when I met Jack—the little blue worm—and he told me that the Labyrinth was full of openings, only I wasn't seeing them because I wasn't looking at them correctly."

"Do you understand what I mean now?"

Sarah closed her eyes in thought; the Sphinx began to clean her paws. Sarah exclaimed suddenly, "I see what you mean! You mean to say that what _looks_ like a bear might not actually _be_ a bear, only I see it as a bear because I'm not looking at it correctly. But what _would _it be if not a bear…"

Precisely as the question left her lips Sarah knew the answer. "Morta," she averred.

"Don't run away this time, Sarah," said the Sphinx. "And no matter what, never—and I do mean _never_—be afraid of it. If you do not fear, it will have no power over you and shall reveal itself truly to you."

The Sphinx stood up and arched her back, stretching herself elegantly in feline fashion before leaping to the forest floor and padding softly away. "By the way," she called over her shoulder. "There's a spring a few yards behind you that you can get fresh water from, and the berries growing near it are wonderfully refreshing." And with one last, graceful flick of her long tail and a flash of leopard-spotted fur, the Sphinx was gone.

**

* * *

*A hind is a female deer, for those of you not familiar with the term. **

**This chapter ended up being way longer than I expected, so tune in next time to see Sarah's confrontation with the bear! It will be fun, I promise, and maybe a bit frightening. But mostly fun! **

**As always leave me some love (i.e., a review) if you're enjoying yourself! **


	27. Facing Death

**I came down with the stomach flu a few days ago, so I haven't had much energy to write (read, do anything more than sit on the couch and sip Sprite and eat crackers), so I'm sorry this has taken a while. I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Sarah couldn't think of a time when she had been more frightened for her life. The path down to the cave had been easily tread, but facing the bloodthirsty maw of an enormous bear for the second time was not on her list of desirable experiences. For a long while, she stood in front of the cave—breathing heavily—and trying to gain control of her emotions.

"The Sphinx told me not to be afraid," she breathed. "How is that possible? How can I _not_ be afraid of a bear three times my height? Oh child, how are we going to manage this?"

She placed on hand on her extended stomach and exhaled slowly. She felt her baby move beneath her hand and a sense of strength and purpose overcame her. She felt a surge of love for her unborn child; it was taking care of her when she should be taking care of it.

She found herself reciting a strange litany recovered from the depths of her mermory, "I will not fear; fear is the mindkiller. I will face my fear and permit it to pass through me. When it is gone, only I will remain." She couldn't quite recall where she'd heard it before. A book? A movie? Either way, it didn't matter where it was from, only that it gave her courage.

She took a step toward the cave, reciting the litany repeatedly to stave off fear. Her toes touched the edge of the looming darkness in front of her. A few more steps and she would be swallowed by it. Sarah inhaled and exhaled once, then walked forward to meet her destiny.

The cave hadn't changed since the day before. It was still dank and musty, still smelling of wet hair and rotting meat. If she listened hard, she swore she could hear deep, slow breathing. Summoning her courage, she stepped forward another few paces and stopped dead in her tracks—the air around her was moving as something in the depths of the cave stirred.

She braced herself and called out into the dank gloom of the cave, "Morta? My name is Sarah and I've come seeking something from you. I've come to face you," she paused, "and I'm not afraid of you."

A deep, low growl emitted from deep in the cave, causing the hairs on the back of Sarah's neck to stand on end. Nevertheless, she stood her ground, repeating her mantra against fear under her breath. The growling drew closer and Sarah again felt a puff of hot, fetid breath blow on her face, bringing with it the familiar smell of spittle and flesh.

Sarah felt rather than saw the bear coming toward her. Faint light from the mouth of the cave reflected off two pale yellow pupils roughly three feet away. Sarah clutched at the rock behind her and a shower of loose pebbles crumbled beneath her fingers and scattered across the stone floor. Neither bear nor woman moved as they faced each other across the gloom.

Outside, the sun was dipping lower on the horizon toward mid afternoon. Sunlight chased shadows on the ceiling of the cave as fingers of light reached yearningly toward the inevitable confrontation between queen and beast. Minutes past and neither opponent dared to move. Light continued to creep into the cavern, spilling onto Sarah's feet and gliding past without pause toward the creature opposite.

The growing light illuminated a pair of hairy paws resting against the stone floor. Wicked claws longer than Sarah's hand extended from the tufted ends of its fingerpads and the afternoon sun glanced off the bear's eyes like twin flashes of fire. Saliva dripped from its teeth as its lips drew back in a snarl. The smell of rancid meat was overwhelming and Sarah's head began to swim. Nevertheless, she held her ground and shook her head quickly to clear away the threat of unconsciousness.

"Morta," Sarah commanded forcefully. "Morta face me as you really are."

The bear growled menacingly, its claws scraping against the stone with the sound of fingernails against a chalkboard. Sarah refused to back down.

"Morta!" She shouted, this time more loudly than the last.

The bear reared on its hind legs and its head brushed against the top of the cave. As Sarah had conjectured, it stood roughly sixteen feet tall. She felt a drop of something wet on her head and reached up to find a sticky wad of spit dripping from her hairline.

She muttered the word 'gross' and wiped her hands off on her dress before turning her attention back to the beast towering over her—blood red eyes and sharp fangs portending a slow and bloody death.

Fear fluttered in Sarah's breast like a bird trapped in a cage, longing for release. Heedless of the danger, she recklessly shoved aside her feelings and drew breath to speak. But she didn't know what to say; her direct commands for Morta to reveal herself were swatted aside as carelessly as if they were pesky flies, nothing more. The bear was growing increasingly agitated with her—shifting its bulky weight impatiently and salivating more heavily. Sarah racked her brain to discover some hidden clue as to what to say in the Sphinx's conversation but found nothing.

Instinctively, she knew she was running out of time; she had to find the right words. _Right words_….the phrase jogged her memory. _"Say your right words princess"—_one of the opening phrases in the book she'd read as a teenager. _Right words? Dammit! What are the right words?_ She couldn't just wish Morta there could she? No, the Sphinx had mentioned fear, that she could not fear Morta or her power. Power? Could it be? Was it really that simple?

"You have no power over me," she whispered. The bear roared defiantly and took a step closer, taking a swipe at her with one of its tire-sized paws. But Sarah quickly noted that the swipe was half-hearted at best and the roar had changed in timbre from impatient to angry—angry at being vanquished, as Jareth had been when she used the same phrase.

"That's it!" she exclaimed. She eyed the bear fearlessly and shouted, "Morta, I am not afraid of you. You have no power over me!"

The bear's roar shook the cavern walls. Before Sarah's astonished eyes, the bear began to shrink and as it did, a corona of white light flared around it as if it were the birth of a star. So bright was its luminescence that Sarah was forced to close her eyes to protect them from the blinding glare.

"You may open your eyes now, Goblin Queen," a soft, childlike voice proclaimed. Sarah complied obediently to the new voice and looked around for the source.

The first thing she noted was that she was no longer standing in a dank, dark cave. The cold stone had transformed into the inside walls of a home—brown and rusted yellow transmuted to pastel yellow and white. Crown molding replaced the stalactites and she could feel carpet under her feet rather than rough stone. The speaker, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"Morta?" Sarah queried, glancing quickly about the new room with some interest. She heard a bell-like laugh and, looking downward, stared straight into the face of a little girl.

She looked no older than twelve, at most, with delicate golden hair waving from the top of her head down to her waist. She had eyes the color of a summer sky and her innocent face was fresher than a spring rain. She wore a gown of white muslin cut simply to fit her small frame; it was embroidered at the neck and cuffs with silver-thread that looked remarkably similar to the thread Sarah had noted at homes of the other two sisters.

"You're—" Sarah began, her mouth hanging indecorously with disbelief.

"I am Morta," the child answered with a smile, her laugh ringing out like windchimes in the breeze. "What did you expect, a bent hag wrinkled with age and pock-marked with bitterness and age spots?"

Sarah floundered and in the end, could do no more than open and close her mouth like a stranded fish.

"Don't worry," Morta beamed innocently. "I'm not offended if you did. Most people expect that from me. They imagine me as an old crone broken and bent with age and consumed by bitterness over the life that passes beneath her claw-like fingers." The girl curved her fingers and scrunched her face in an amazingly accurate mimic of an old lady. "They think the third sister—the keeper of the shears—would resent life and happiness, to take it so freely from those who cherish it so highly. The truth," she returned to her normal stature and shrugged her thin shoulders lightly. "The truth is often far different from what we expect."

"And what is the truth?" Sarah asked, still stunned by the child standing before her.

"The truth?" Morta replied. "Is that what you came for Sarah, the truth about death?"

"No," Sarah admitted. She was disinclined to change the subject because she was so fascinated with Morta's unexpected appearance and wanted an explanation. Why was the sister most feared and resented among the humans of her world a child? Was this another trick of the Underground or was Morta really as she appeared now? She wanted answers, however, she recognized the leading question her host had asked and reluctantly admitted her need. "I came to collect your shears."

"Yes, you have, haven't you?" Morta answered. She tilted her head sideways and her blue eyes widened innocently. "So what do you have to exchange for it?"

"Exchange?" echoed Sarah sadly. She spread her hands wide in a gesture of helplessness. "I don't have anything left. I've given up my crown in exchange for Nona's distaff and my amulet in exchange for my lifethread from Decima. I have nothing left to offer you. I'm sorry."

"That's very sad," said Morta. She clasped her hands in front of her and swayed slightly. She closed her eyes and opened them again—her childlike face no longer innocent, but shrewd. "I am very sorry to hear that, Sarah, but are you certain there is _nothing_ you have to offer?"

"No, nothing," replied Sarah sorrowfully.

"Not even that gold ring on your left hand? It's so pretty; it must be worth something to you." Morta extended a small finger—still round with youthful fat—to point at Sarah's wedding ring.

Sarah fingered the gold and diamond ring Jareth had given her the day of their joining ceremony. The tiny crystal he had imbedded in the main setting winked at her sadly and the encircling diamonds reflected the sorrow in a million tiny rainbows dancing through their facets.

"Jareth," she whispered. "It's all I have left of him. I can't…" Her eyes misted; she remembered the way he'd looked at her as he placed the ring on her finger: his mismatched blue eyes filled with passion and wonder. He'd taken her hands in his and kissed her fingertips tenderly before pulling her close and covering her mouth with his own.

She recalled the way the crystal had shone brightly as she wound her fingers tightly into his mane of blonde hair. She had watched it flicker and fade from her vision until it was lost in the sea of wild strands. It suddenly felt heavy on her finger; the way it had felt when she first wore it, a stranger to her body, an alien weight blaring its presence with every slight twitch of her muscles.

While Sarah stared unseeingly at her left hand, Morta watched passively from across the room. She knew Sarah would eventually give up her ring: a flesh and blood lover was worth far more than a metal band signifying one's ties. Yet, she also understood the difficulty in abandoning the symbol of undying love for the intangible reality of it; in the end, the ring was no more than a symbol, but it was an important one to Sarah and one that she needed time to accept the absence of.

Yet Morta knew that this Underground Queen must learn to accept hidden things as reality and the unseen as fact despite no visible evidence to support it. The very nature of her quest demanded that she discard the trappings of her existence—the forms and façades of things accepted as true—in order to gain the intangible. Sarah had no evidence that her lover still existed, or even that he would be sane should she retrieve him. Neither had she any proof that the result of her quest would, in fact, gain her the requisite tools needed to rescue him from the Underworld. She was accepting what was told her on faith and not based on any actual evidence.

_She must learn to see beyond appearances and accept that while some things are not what they seem, others—which may not be seen with the eye—reflect more truly the nature of reality than those that can be seen. She lacks a crown, but she is no less a queen without the symbol of it. She must learn to understand that if she is to rescue her king from his prison_.

Such was the shape of Morta's thoughts as Sarah was distracted by her own. However, as Morta had silently predicted, Sarah eventually twisted the band from her finger and offered it reluctantly to the third sister.

Morta took the ring and tucked it into a pocket of her dress. "Stay here," she warned, suddenly stern. "I shall return momentarily with the shears."

While Morta was gone, Sarah seized the opportunity to examine the room more closely. It struck her that the placement and design of the furniture was exactly like a dollhouse she'd had as a girl. The chairs and table looked to be Queen Anne, with dark cherry finish and ivory upholstery. Everything was of the highest quality and perfectly placed to ensure maximum comfort and taste.

There was, however, one piece of furniture that didn't fit the rest of the décor. In one corner sat a squat old secretary with worn walnut finish. Sarah quietly hummed a song to herself from one of her favorite childhood shows and checked to see if the secretary was unlocked. Luckily, it was and when she folded down the top, she found a series of glass cases stacked and organized in neat rows.

Inside each of the boxes was a single silver thread, each of different lengths but all woven from the same material as the thread Sarah had tucked safely away in her pack. She remembered when she had been no older than Morta appeared—she'd collected stamps and seashells. Her collection had looked the same as this: organized, detailed, and extensive. Just like any other twelve-year-old girl, Morta had a collection. However, instead of collecting coins or bugs, Morta collected lives.

Sarah fingered the boxes gingerly, her fingers flitted like ghosts among the gravestones. Despite the morbidity, Sarah could detect neither malice nor mania in the arrangement of the cases. It was precisely as it appeared: a child's collection of interesting objects. Sarah's heard the sound of the knob turning and she swiftly closed the lid of the secretary and stepped away.

Morta entered and Sarah doubted that her keen perception would have overlooked the dying scrape of wood on wood, but if she was aware of Sarah's prying, she gave no sign. Instead, the golden haired girl pranced over to Sarah and held up an expensive mahogany case with a silver clasp.

"What you asked for, Goblin Queen," Morta chimed lightly. She undid the clasp to display a pair of silver shears resting on a bed of blue velvet. "Take care of them for me will you? I happen to like this pair very much." She smiled and handed the box over to Sarah.

"How do you do it?" asked Sarah, fingering the mahogany box warily.

"Do what?" Morta replied, rocking gently on her heels.

"Ki—I mean, cut the thread? How do you so carelessly end a person's life?" Sarah held the box as if it were a bomb set to go off in her hands.

"Carelessly? Oh, I do not cut the thread carelessly. I always take the utmost care and patience when I'm working. Believe me Sarah, I have a very great fondness for you human men and women," beamed Morta, her blue eyes bright with merriment. "You're such a delight to watch as you run about your short, interesting lives!

"Now, you really must be going. It is not wise to remain long in the presence of death, Goblin Queen." Morta's face was suddenly serious, causing her to look far older than the twelve years her diminutive stature proclaimed. "Besides, we shall soon meet again, I think. Or at least, I shall see you even if you do not see me."

"I don't understand," said Sarah, confused.

"You will, soon," Morta reassured her, placing a small hand on Sarah's arm. "Thank you for coming, Sarah. It was lovely to meet you!"

In a flash, everything dissolved and Sarah found herself facing the empty blackness of the cave once again, Morta's melodious laughter ringing in her ears.

**

* * *

If you can guess the book/movie Sarah quoted her litany from, or the song you think she was humming when she went to the desk, I'll make sure to mention you in my next update! How's that for a fun challenge?**

**Leave your guesses with your delightful reviews :) Lots of love to you all and happy guessing!**


	28. The Final Barrier

**Congratulations to daughterofthe1king, KawaiiScorpio, spihh110, Princess Bel and jengrl44 for correctly guessing that the quote Sarah recites is the "Litany against Fear" from **_**Dune**_**, the book by Frank Herbert. I had in mind that Sarah had read the book rather than seen the film and the quote is shortened because she forgot the whole thing—like I often do when I try to remember it. **

**So far no one has guessed the song correctly, but I'll tell you now: Sarah was humming "One of these things is not like the other" from Sesame Street. ;) Haha! I baffled you all! But without further adieu, here is what you really came for:**

_

* * *

Thus it was that our Great Queen successfully confronted the Three Sisters and obtained from them a distaff, the thread of her life, and shears, all the items she had been ordered to collect before seeking out the former King and Queen of Heaven. In exchange for these she had given up her crown, her amulet, and her ring and in the process, crossed three of the four boundaries standing betwixt her and rescuing her beloved King. Lacking only the blessing and gift of the Royal Couple, Sarah left Morta's abode in search of the final barrier standing between her and immortality—the barrier of fire. _

_Leaving Death behind, the Goblin Queen traversed the forested precipice housing the Third of Three and came to the edge of a vast desert. Unbeknownst to her, this was her final test—the barrier of unendurable fire—that she must cross to reach the safe haven beyond. For days she sought a way round the burning sands but found none. Her boots had long since worn away to ribbons of leather and cloth, leaving her no way to adequately protect her fragile feet from the flaming sands. With only her skin to walk on, she feared to venture beyond the soft grasses of the desert border._

_What was the Goblin Queen to do with such a trail before her? Had she been any less than the conqueror of the Labyrinth, she would have thought the task impossible. Had she been any less than a true Queen of the Underground, she would have been lost to self-pity or worse, bitter despair. Had she been any less than a hero, she would have thrown herself into the sea or off the pinnacle of Morta's abode. Yet she was all these things—victor, queen, and hero—and more. Love for her lost king refused to lose hope. Therefore, undaunted, she set out across the fiery desert only to be driven back to the shade of the forest fringing the sands, lest she pass out from the oppressive heat beating down from the sky above. _

_Whilst she recovered her senses beneath the shade of an Aul tree, a small hare peered round the trunk of a nearby tree to watch her. Its beady brown eyes glistened in recognition of the one who had so willingly rescued it from a bloody hunters trap and, hopping up beside the Goblin Queen, it endeavored to gain her attention. Curious at the hare's lack of fear, the Queen shifted her attention from the daunting task before her to the minute creature begging at her side. In a moment, she recognized the white blaze across its forehead and thus, eagerly gave her attention to the third creature she had not thought to meet after that day in the woods long go. _

_As the Goblin Queen watched, the little creature did something extraordinarily mundane. Certain of her watchful gaze, the hare hopped to a little green plant growing on the fringes of the sand and nibbled at it. The Goblin Queen sighed and turned away, certain that she had been mistaken in her memory, and gave herself over to the contemplation of her appointed task. However, the creature was not finished with its exhibition. Rather than hop away, it hopped directly onto the burning sands, scampering a few feet into the sunlight and blinking rapidly up at the sky. To the Queen's amazement, the creature was unharmed by either the flaming sand beneath it or the heat raining from above. _

_Certain that the plant had protected the hare from harm, the Goblin Queen plucked the remainder of the little green plant from the ground and tucked it into her dress with a few more of the plants she found scattered nearby. Taking a few leaves in her mouth, she pressed eagerly onward through the desert and, like the hare previously, remained gloriously unharmed. _

_Neither the fire of the sun by day nor the waves of heat rolling off the sand by night could touch her. She was invincible. For days she walked tirelessly through the shifting sands toward what she hoped was a conclusion to her journey. She needed little water, for the plant quenched her thirst as well as the flames surrounding her, and her feet, though unshod, never grew weary. Nearly two months had passed like a moment before she was even aware and still she had not reached the other side. _

_Like her journey, her trials were far from ended. Before she reached the other side, the plant ran out. Having gone too far to turn back and with no hope but to continue onward, the Goblin Queen continued to place one naked foot in front of the other. After two days of the scorching heat, she was forced to tear strips from her undergarments to bind her blistered, weary feet. Another day passed and she ran out of water in her flask; great indeed was her thirst, for the long-sleeved gown she wore made her sweat profusely and without the plant to quench it, her throat burned as hotly as her sand-scorched feet. Yet she dare not remove the outer garment, lest her arms, neck and legs face the same fate as her wounded feet. _

_For days, she traversed the endless sands wearily, her bound and blistered feet throbbing with each step; her heavy pregnancy began to take its toll on her stamina and had she not forced her legs beyond their natural endurance, she would have most certainly perished in the desert and both she, her child and the Goblin King would have been lost to history and memory._

_As the Fates would have it, she was not doomed to waste away in the withering heat and she did, at last reach the other side of the desert. Yet no sooner had she sat down upon the lush grasses of a sheltering grove of trees than she felt a tightening in her abdomen, causing her to gasp in surprise. The spasm lasted half a minute before passing but in another few moments it was followed by another; they were painless but strong—sending shockwaves across her abdomen in irregular intervals. She cried out once then passed out from heat, dehydration and weariness. _

——_Excerpt from "The Travails of the Goblin Queen," Appendixed to the Annals of the Court of the Wise by Asenath, Court Scribe, in the year 7534, Age of Restoration_

* * *

Sarah opened her eyes slowly, expecting an intricate spider web of leafy veins backlit by the sun to greet her awakening. However, instead of the green canopy of a forested grove, her eyes saw a white daub ceiling turned yellow by the light from a flickering candle. She attempted to rise, but found herself constricted by heavy blankets. Her feet felt oddly thick and heavy, as if she were wearing thirty pairs of socks. She tried to wiggle her toes but they, like the rest of her body, were bound too tightly in cloth to allow any movement.

The door to her room opened and a middle-aged woman—her hazelnut hair silvering at the temples—swept gracefully into the room bearing a wood tray laden with steaming dishes. Delicious scents wafted toward the bed from beneath the silver domes and Sarah's stomach complained loudly of its emptiness.

The woman chuckled lightly, her crow's feet crinkling at the corner's of her eyes. "It's a good thing I brought this in when I did! I'm sure my husband could hear that from the other room and he will be wondering whether there's a ravenous beast in the bedroom rather than a worse-for-the-wear pregnant girl! Here now, let me help you with that," she set down the tray and, after untucking the blankets, helped Sarah to sit upright with a few extra pillows propped behind her back. Unfolding a pair of sturdy wooden legs from beneath the tray, the woman set the tray down in front of her guest and began to uncover various dishes.

"There's a nice hot cereal for you with cream, sugar and mixed berries," she explained, lifting one of the lids. Lifting another, a wave of cinnamon wafted toward Sarah's nostrils and she moaned expectantly. "Cinnamon toast. And there are eggs, sausage, and a fresh pot of hot herbal tea and some eidelberry juice—it's not what you're used to, but its healthful and I think you'll find the taste quite pleasant. Eat up now! You've got two to take care of and I won't have you wasting away while you're under my care."

Sarah did not need to be told twice, and despite not knowing the identity of her hostess—or whether her food might be poisoned—she attacked the fare with great vigor. The woman took a seat next to the bed with a pile of emerald green sewing that looked to be Sarah's gown and, perching a pair of pince-nez on the tip of her nose, she set to work. Though ostensibly occupied with needlework, Sarah noted the woman's eyes flicking in her direction every so often as if she were checking on her guest to make sure she ate all of her food. Eventually, Sarah's curiosity became unbearable and, around a bite of possibly the most delicious cinnamon toast she'd ever eaten, she attempted to ask the woman for her name.

"Eshoes mah, wha ith or mame?" was all she could manage with her mouth full and, after a glance of motherly reproach from her hostess, she immediately lowered her gaze bashfully and swallowed her food before repeating, "Excuse me, what is your name?"

The woman placed her sewing down, folded her hands across it and removed her pince-nez before replying in a matter-of-fact tone, "Why, my name is Rhea, Sarah. Didn't you know that?"

The name struck her like a gale-force wind, forcing her to gasp for breath. She choked on her words, her eyes bulging. Eventually, she found her voice but was unable to do any more than parrot the woman's name back to her in a mouse-like squeak before falling prey to a fit of uncontrollable stuttering. It sounded worse than a glossophobic schoolboy going through puberty.

Rhea smiled kindly and placed an outstretched hand on Sarah's knee, "Take your time, dear. Just take a deep breath, that's it. Now exhale slowly, very good. Now, what were you trying to say?"

"Y–your Rhea…the one I've been looking for. I c-can't believe it…you mean I've f-f-fi-fin—"

"Finished your journey? Not quite, but you're very near the end. We're both so proud of you—my husband Chronus and I. We've watched you from the beginning and continually marveled at the kindness, strength, perseverance and just downright gall you've displayed these past several months. We couldn't be more proud of our great-great-grandson for choosing you as his Queen," beamed Rhea, her face radiant with motherly delight.

"You've proven yourself a hundred times over of being worthy to wear the crown and authority of Queen of the Underground," a strong male voice spoke from the doorway. "And you're more than a match for Jareth, no matter what his arrogant self-importance might lead you to think. He's got too much of his mother in him."

A middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair stepped through the doorway, his face set in a wide grin that reached all the way to his stormy grey eyes. It might have been a trick of the light, but Sarah swore that one of his pupils was larger than the other.

"Oh, hush you," Rhea bantered, swatting playfully at her husband who ducked out of the way and narrowly escaped his wife's open palm full force on his rear end. "Felicia took after you anyway, even if she was our great granddaughter. Stubborn egoism runs in your side of the family, not mine!"

"It goes along with the good looks, then," he countered. "I can't help it that my children—and their children—are blessed with my handsome features, or that they're aware of it!"

"And it isn't so surprising that, like you, they don't change after a couple thousand years!" She let out a mock-sigh of longsuffering and rolled her eyes. "Men don't change, Sarah. Not even when you've been married to them for almost twenty thousand years."

Sarah nodded numbly and raised her left hand absent-mindedly to her lips to take a sip from her tea. The cup rattled loudly against the saucer and teetered precariously as she attempted to set it back down on the saucer without looking. Chronus and Rhea turned from each other to stare at their guest.

"Oh dear, we must be overwhelming you," Rhea soothed, tossing her sewing aside and hastily removing the dishes from Sarah's lap. "You've only just woken up after your terrible ordeal in the desert and here we are prattling away when you should be resting. Come along Chronus, we mustn't keep our guest up with our ramblings just now. She has a baby to think of, mind you. Now, be a dear and fetch my sewing for me please while I clear away these dishes?"

Chronus moaned pitifully as he picked up the fabric, winking slyly at Sarah when Rhea, huffing in exasperation, turned her back and left the room. He leaned in close and whispered, "She's all bark and no bite. Just between you and me, verbal sparring gets her all worked up, if you know what I mean." He grinned suggestively, nudging Sarah in the ribs with his elbow as Rhea exclaimed from the other room, "I heard that! You better get in here now or you'll be in big trouble mister!"

"Whoops! I'd better get going. Sleep well, Sarah and don't worry, we're not going anywhere, other than to our bedroom that is!"

"Chronus! Get out of there right now and let Sarah sleep or you're going to march straight outside and I'll lock the door behind you!" And with a final wink, Chronus closed the door, leaving Sarah to stare dazedly at the bronze door handle and wonder whether or not the last ten minutes had been a fever-induced delirium.

* * *

Despite, or perhaps due to, her confusion Sarah slept soundly for the next twelve hours. She awoke refreshed and very much in need of another meal. Finding her covers less restricting than previously, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. They still felt heavy, and in the ambient light from a curtained window—the candle had burned down to a puddle of ivory wax on its dish—she could dimly make out that they were wrapped in a thick swath of bandages.

She placed them gingerly on the floor and discovered that they did not hurt—though whether this was due to the wounds being healed or the thickness of the bandages, she could not say for certain. Leaning against the wall, she was able to maneuver awkwardly around Rhea's unoccupied chair, although her increased mass and girth made it difficult. She felt the weight of her unborn child tugging relentlessly on her abdomen and her back began to ache within minutes of rising from the bed. Though she could not see them, her ankles and feet were no doubt swollen beyond recognition. Suddenly, she realized she urgently needed the restroom else her bladder would burst.

Sacrificing grace for speed, Sarah stumbled to the door and into the hallway beyond. Belatedly, she recalled her lack of familiarity with the present abode and stopped dead in her tracks, uncertain whether to follow the hallway left or right.

So it was that Chronus found her standing helplessly in the center of the corridor a minute later, her head swinging from side to side in a befuddled fashion.

"Lost, Sarah?" said Chronus a quirky grin on his face as he emerged from the room across from Sarah's.

"Yes, um, I was looking for a restroom," Sarah replied self-consciously.

"Just down the hall, it's the second door on your right. Oh, and when you've finished up, come join Rhea and I in the parlor—that will be right across the hallway when you get out," Chronus cocked an eyebrow archly. "One thing I know from being around all these years, my wife makes the best berry tarts in the Underworld. Don't dally too long or I'll eat them all before you get there."

"I'll try not to take too long," Sarah joked, wobbling in the direction Chronus had indicated.

A few short minutes later she found herself seated and blanketed in well-cushioned tan armchair with her feet propped on an ottoman. Beside her, an end table laden with tea and goodies sat well within arm's reach. Despite his threats otherwise, there were plenty of tarts to satisfy Sarah's sudden craving for sweets, which had come upon her when she saw the delicious looking pastries. Rhea seemed well aware of the sugar craving, as she had already served Sarah three of the tarts, and the Queen was grateful for the insight.

"I remember craving sweet foods towards the end of my first pregnancy," Rhea explained as she served Sarah a fresh tart—her fourth—and poured tea into her empty cup. "Up to the very moment Hestia was born all I wanted to eat were pastries and truffles. I must have eaten every sweet thing we had on hand, including the honeycomb! So I prepared some of my favorite tarts for you, in case you happened to have the same cravings I did."

Rhea's eyes crinkled with pleasure—one could easily discern that she thrived on showing hospitality; no matter how small the gesture, nothing was beneath her purview. She returned to her seat beside Chronus and resumed mending the heap of green cloth she had been working on earlier.

Sarah swallowed the last bite of tart and, wiping the crumbs off her face and fingers with a cloth, cleared her throat. Rhea looked up through her pince nez—once again perched on the tip of her nose—and Chronus put down his book and politely folded his hands in his lap.

"Yes dear?" Rhea prompted at the same time as Chronus said, "Something on your mind, Sarah?" Husband and wife locked eyes for a brief, loving second before returning to their guest encouragingly.

"You mentioned yesterday—or I assume it was yesterday—that you both have been watching me since I began my journey and I wanted to know what you meant," said Sarah, her hands placed restively on her swollen belly.

Her hosts looked at one another and an unspoken communication passed between them. They seemed to have reached a decision when Chronus coughed once and exhaled loudly.

"You know that a long time ago we were banished here by our youngest son," Sarah nodded and Chronus continued, "Well, prior to that my wife had been particularly gifted with foresight, or prescience if you prefer. When we were banished, she let on that she had begun to lose this ability."

"Let on?" Sarah interjected.

"She hadn't really. We're far too old to 'lose' our natural abilities. Over a long period of time, certain magical skills that were once innate may be lost as men and women fail to practice them, but we'll return to that later.

"The long and short of it is that Rhea feigned a lapse in capability such that our entire family was convinced she could no longer foresee the future."

"But why?" asked Sarah, baffled.

"Because too great a reliance upon prescience can stunt your intelligence," Rhea commented, her eyes never leaving her sewing.

Chronus chuckled, "We were convinced that our family would lose their ability to think critically and adapt to their environment if they could rely on foresight. So," he paused, his eyes misting with regret, "we left. We gave a final prediction that a child would one day be born who could reverse the curse and left our family to come live here, in peace."

"Wait a minute," Sarah replied. "You're telling me that first you _lied_ to your family and then you _left_ them with nothing more than a vague prophecy about some child that _might_ someday be born?"

"We did it for the best, Sarah," Rhea answered, placing her sewing neatly in her lap. "We did not do it lightly. They could not move on from the past with Chronus and I still living among them, reminding them daily of where they had come from. It is one of the hazards of immortality; when tragedy strikes, you're forced to live forever with it. For all our sakes, the future was only possible if the past were removed from active memory and _that_ was only possible if Chronus and I removed ourselves from their lives.

"But I'm afraid my husband has done a poor job introducing you to why it is we have watched over you so carefully in this past year," Rhea commented. Chronus crossed his arms and feigned offence, which Rhea brushed away lightly with a gesture from her well-formed hand.

"You see, we've known you were coming since we left our family over five thousand of your Aboveground years ago. You were an intricate part of the vision I had of the future child who would one day free the Underground from our own children's tyranny."

"Me?" Sarah squeaked.

"Yes, you. Your coming to the Labyrinth the first time, meeting our great-great grandson, going home again only to return seven years later—all that was not an accident. You were meant to come here, Sarah, meant to meet and fall in love with Jareth so that you could one day rescue him."

"But, if I'd never come in the first place, or the second place, then Jareth wouldn't be trapped in the Underworld at all," said Sarah.

"Precisely," Rhea concurred, leaving Sarah more confused than ever.

"But enough about the past," Chronus chimed in. "Sarah's not here for a history lesson, Rhea, or even a philosophy lecture. She wants to know how we were involved in her journey here from the Kingdoms."

"You were _involved_?" gasped a bewildered Sarah.

"Of course we were," Rhea replied in a matter-of-fact tone that left Sarah speechless. "Didn't I already say that?"

"No darling," Chronus whispered. He patted Rhea's arm affectionately, "You were too caught up in the details of prescience and history to mention it." He gave Sarah a sympathetic smile, "I'm sorry, Rhea is easily preoccupied with prophesy and destiny—one of the perils of foresight."

Rhea grumbled something about 'interfering husbands' that Sarah didn't quite catch, but Rhea's tone was more mocking than defensive, so Sarah felt certain Chronus was not in serious trouble. Rather, the subject appeared to be a long-running joke in their relationship, for Chronus immediately burst into uproarious laughter at the sight of his 'angered' wife.

Rhea cleared her throat loudly in between her husband's laughter, "Ahem, Chronus. We do have a guest and I think she would appreciate an explanation of our involvement, as you were so kind enough to point out to her before being distracted by airing your wife's flaws."

"Whew, sorry, Sarah," Chronus wiped tears from his eyes. "I can't help myself sometimes; my wife is just too adorable." He leaned over toward Rhea with lips puckered but she turned away, placing her palm firmly on his lips and turning his head toward Sarah.

"Oh right," Chronus sat back on the loveseat, grinning from ear to ear proudly. "Let's just say that yesterday was not the first time you met us."

"What do you mean?" Sarah demanded. "I've never seen you before in my life."

"Oh, you've never seen us look like this," Chronus amended. "But we have met before. You met my wife at your campfire. Oh, I'm sure you remember if you just think hard enough. Too bad your friends were all asleep at the time. Rhea has always wanted to meet them, especially your funny little dwarf friend Hoggle."

Sarah tried to think back to a time when she would have met Rhea at a fire while Hoggle was with her, but asleep. _Asleep at a fire? The last time I was with my friends around a fire was before I arrived at the Court, because afterward we all stayed with Felicia and the others in the caves. But that would mean…_

"The old woman?" Sarah answered, her intonation making it a question rather than a statement. "But how could you—she was so _old_ and you're—you were in disguise?"

"Not exactly," Rhea answered gently. "Chronus mentioned that certain abilities innate to our nature could be lost overtime as subsequent generations forgot to practice or simply stopped their use altogether. Metamorphosis is one of those skills that my husband and I were born with that our grandchildren and their children have lost. Indeed, Jareth is the only King who still has some vestige of that ability, albeit his skills are limited to the use of a singular secondary form rather than multiple."

"It used to be," added Chronus, "that any one of our race could shift our natural form into any other form we wanted, be it man, beast, plant or even elements of nature. You've read the Olympian histories so you must know of the many ways our son Zeus used his ability for, erm, less than savory purposes."

"To slake his lusts, you mean," said Rhea. "No need to hide the facts, Chronus. Anyway, all that to say I was not really disguised so much as I appeared to you in an altered form from my usual one. Even now we're not really in our natural form." Rhea gestured to herself and her husband.

"We assumed you would be more comfortable with us if we appeared, well, _older_ than Jareth," Rhea explained. "It's one thing for your husband's parents to look no older than he does, but his _great-great-grandparents_? No, we thought this would make the whole thing a lot easier."

Sarah nodded vacantly, visibly overwhelmed and completely uncertain what she was to make of the information given her. Was it possible that Chronus and Rhea had been with her the whole way? If so, why hadn't they simply appeared to her at the beginning and saved her all the trouble of making the trip? Even more alarming was the possibility that, since they were capable of being anyone or anything, her whole trip could have been an elaborate hoax. Were _any_ of the people she met real? Had she ever been in any real danger or was it all in her mind?

"The danger was real Sarah," Chronus said, reading her thoughts as if her face were an open book. "At any point along the journey you could have given up or been lost. The torturous barriers you crossed were as real as the sisters you sought to retrieve the tokens from. Yes, Nona, Decima and Morta are as real as you are. I do admit, however, that some of the more 'intelligent' animals you met were not what they appeared."

"The eagles," Sarah exclaimed loudly. "I know they were too aware to be real. The way they talked to each other and to me was completely unnatural, though I admit I was willing to believe it possible that Underground animals were different from the ones where I'm from," Sarah sighed. "It was you all along—figures. Does that mean…the fish…and the hare?"

Chronus and Rhea nodded and Sarah threw up her hands in annoyance, "What about the Sphinx? Are you going to tell me she's just a creation of your collective imagination?"

Chronus guffawed loudly and slapped his thigh; Rhea beamed merrily, "Ooh, she would have a _fit_ if she knew you thought we made her up!"

"So she's real." Sarah stated with some relief. "I'm glad." She'd grown fond of the enigmatic cat, no matter how cryptic her messages were. Sarah proudly considered the Sphinx to be both a friend and an invaluable guide.

"Oh, she's real all right and a great friend of ours," said Chronus. "I'm sure she'll show up while you're here. She's not over fond of humans—too small-minded. But between you and me, I think she likes you." Sarah blushed.

Rhea cleared her throat and glanced pointedly at her husband. "Well, go on then, tell her."

"Tell me what?" asked Sarah, once again in the dark as to the unspoken conversation husband and wife were apparently having.

"Do I have to?" Chronus pleaded.

"You told her I was the old woman, so now it's your turn," Rhea answered, unmoved by her husband's doe eyes and mock-whimpering.

"She'll tell Jareth and _then_ where will I be?!" Chronus protested. Rhea fixed him with a stern glare and he capitulated, albeit reluctantly. "I was the wimble mimble," he muttered softly and although Sarah strained her ears, she did not understand him.

"Speak _up_, Chronus!" Rhea chastised, punctuating her annoyance with a slight tap of her spectacles on her husband's arm.

"Fine! All right, I give up! I was the wiseman, now stop hitting me, Rhea!" He stuck his hands up defensively and scooted out of her reach."

Sarah was aghast. "You…but, no…then, what?!" she sputtered senselessly. "How could…then why…who…" Eventually she gave up, throwing her hands up and sighing melodramatically, "Nothing makes any sense anymore!"

Rhea reached over to comfort her with a gentle hand. "I know you're having a hard time taking this all in right now. Would you like to rest for a bit or—"

"No," uttered Sarah forcefully, her mind suddenly clear; her face, determined. "I don't want to wait any longer. I will try to make sense of this later, when I have the leisure of a sunny afternoon and a huge pot of tea. Right now, I want nothing more than to do what I came here to do." Sarah rose to her feet, throwing off the knit blanket and standing firmly on her bandaged feet.

"Chronus, Rhea, I am grateful for your hospitality. I am even more grateful that you have been kind enough to furnish me with explanations on some of my more burning questions, and to do so in an amusing, if confusing manner.

"However, my sole purpose in coming here is and always has been to beseech your benevolence and mercy in my quest to reclaim my beloved Jareth from the Underworld. I've come to ask for what you alone in the entire Underworld—and perhaps in all of the three worlds—can bestow. I ask for that now: will you, Chronus and Rhea, former King and Queen of heaven, ancestors of my husband, will you grant to me immortality that I might descend to hell and rescue Jareth?

"I have traversed the far reaches of the Underground to seek you, crossing four barriers of earth, air, water and fire. I have given my crown, amulet and ring in exchange for three tokens from the three sisters. From Nona I have retrieved her distaff; from Decima, my lifethread. And finally, from Morta I have received the very shears of death. With these I have come to ask that you would grant this gift to me. Though least I may be of all the Queens of the Underground, though human and frail; I ask of you the greatest gift of all, both for myself, and for my child."

Sarah stood tall. Throughout her speech, the dormant embers of an unquenchable fire had begun to stir so that by the time she finished, her face shone with the light of the Warrior Queen. The zealous flames of a shieldmaiden stirred her spirit, causing her blood to course hotly through her veins like liquid fire. Weariness, pain and sorrow were long forgotten, only to be replaced with the passionate vitality she'd known at the beginning of her quest. Her child leapt joyfully within her womb, lending its 'voice' and energy to the maelstrom of fervor rising within her.

Chronus and Rhea smiled faintly, admiration plainly written on their twin countenances. Subtly, almost imperceptibly, their faces began to change. The lines at their eyes and mouths smoothed and their skin grew taut with youthful freshness. The silver in their hair disappeared and their bodies regained the muscled tone of a couple in their twenties rather than mid-life.

After the change, they faced her with faces serious but kind.

"What you ask is heavy, Sarah Williams," Chronus intoned. "Do you know the cost?"

Sarah nodded, "I understand now as I did not when I started that immortality is gained only at the price of my human life. I must give up my life to gain it, as you once told me."

Chronus smiled at the memory of his riddle, "You understand much, Sarah, more than you think you do."

"Are you ready?" asked Rhea, taking a step forward to place a delicate hand on Sarah's stomach. "For your sake and your child's, I pray you are."

"I am," asserted Sarah, laying her own hand on top of Rhea's. "We both are."

"If that is so," said Rhea, "then let us delay no longer. I fear your time is fast approaching."

"What shall I do?" Sarah asked eagerly.

"Fetch your tokens, Sarah," Chronus replied. "And then, forfeit your life."

**

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I can't believe we're at this point in the story already! There's not much left before it will be time to say 'the end.' But until then, I still have more to keep you entertained (I hope)! Thanks for the reviews last time. I had so much fun waiting to see who would be able to guess the answers. Maybe I should do it again sometime, like right now! Who can tell me—**_**without**_** looking it up—what glossophobia is? If you guess right, you get to have a special appearance in my next chapter's heading!**


	29. Hoggle's Hideout

**Congratulations to WhySoSerious1992 for correctly defining glossophobia. Daughterofthe1king gets a shout out, too, because she got it mostly right. For those of you who **_**don't**_** know, glossophobia is the fear of public speaking. And without any further ado, here's chapter 29!**

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Toby was miserable, there was no doubt about it. Summer had begun less than two weeks ago and he was already certain that this would be the absolute worst summer vacation of his life. Unwilling to capitulate to his parent's demand for more information regarding Sarah and the mysterious crystal due to his loyalty to his older sister, Toby had been grounded from his school field trip to Greece and forced to spend the summer jealously envisioning all his friend's escapades overseas. He had even been denied access to any of the enjoyable camps offered by churches, schools and community parks services and had instead been forced to attend the dreaded music camp followed by basketball camp—his least favorite sport—and a rousing round of debate and math camp. Karen thought it would 'expand his horizons' in a way comparable as his trip to Greece would have—Toby was unconvinced and therefore miserable. Moms really didn't understand anything.

He stared out his window longingly at the children playing in sprinklers on their well-trimmed lawns, but he turned away disgusted because it reminded him of his other summer hobby: yard work. Unwilling to allow their son any free time to "learn any new bad habits," as they put it, Karen and Robert had hired their son out to the neighborhood families in any capacity his nine-year-old stature and strength could manage.

He mowed lawns, planted flowers, took out the trash, washed windows, and took care of animals while their owners went on vacation. Toby didn't mind the dogs so much, they were lots of fun to play with despite having to clean up after their messes; playing with dogs always reminded him of when he had been a toddler and his parents had owned a shaggy sheepdog named Merlin. They'd been best friends up until the day Merlin died of old age.

Toby even enjoyed watching a cat now and then—it wasn't much work other than scooping litter and pouring food into their bowls. Cats pretty much took care of themselves and although they didn't play fetch or run around with him, they did give him more free time to do other things. In all, taking care of cats really wasn't so bad. No, what he minded was taking care of _Mrs. Ferguson's _cats.

Mrs. Ferguson was the neighborhood widow and unofficial 'cat lady.' Her husband, an ex-marine, had died over twenty years ago and since they'd been unable to have children, Mrs. Ferguson had taken it upon herself to fill the void with every available cat that hadn't already been adopted from the local animal shelter. She was well over ninety by now and although she could survive fairly well on her own, she had long ago abandoned real housekeeping in favor of 'leaving things as they've always been.' Toby had once tried to throw away an old candy bar wrapper left on Mr. Ferguson's desk but had been severely scolded by Mrs. Ferguson for attempting to spoil her memory of her husband. Toby never touched anything but the cat food and litter box after that.

Toby hated her house. It smelled of cat urine and stale perfume mingled with the lingering odor of death that seems to cling to the elderly like a premature shroud. The atmosphere—and the pungent stench of the litter box—choked him every time he entered the house. Unluckily, Mrs. Ferguson was away on vacation with her nephew, Bermuda or St. Lucia or some such Caribbean place, for the whole summer, leaving Toby with the delightful job of caring for her fifteen mangy cats.

He sighed heavily and sank his head down on his desk—or what he used as his desk, it was, in reality, Sarah's old vanity (his parents were nothing if not frugal). The Parthenon stared back at him from the cover of the flyer for his school's trip to Greece and he shut his eyes tight against the reminder of his captivity. Fighting back angry tears, Toby withdrew an arm from under his forehead and pounded his tiny fist against the wood of his desk.

"It's just not fair," he hissed defiantly. He banged his fist harder, rattling the pencils on his desk and bruising his pinky finger.

"It's not fair!" He screamed, letting out the full strength of his disappointment. He wasn't worried about his parents; they were away for the afternoon shopping for a new car because their old Volkswagen had finally quit. He was free to vent his frustrations on the furniture.

He opened his eyes a second time and, confronted with the image of the Grecian temple to Athena he should be seeing in person instead of in a photograph, he lost control. He pounded both his fists and, throwing his head back, stood up and glared furiously into the mirror attached to his desk.

"Why does it have to be me? What did I do? I was only trying to help Sarah and Jareth and Hoggle and…all my other friends. Why? Why? _WHY?_ I don't get it. _It's not fair!!_" His anger dissolved into sorrow and he wept into the desk, sinking back down to his chair with his head on his arms.

"Sarah, I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I didn't mean for Mom to find the crystal. I didn't mean for it to break, and now I don't know what to do. I don't know what I _can_ do. It's been so long since I talked to you…you could be hurt or trapped or," he gulped, "dead."

The thought of his sister—her face pale, covered in blood, as her limp body sagged like a doll against the chiseled stone of Jareth's castle walls—made Toby shudder and a fresh wave of tears rained mercilessly down from his face onto the Parthenon. His memory told him that he'd spoken to her since that fateful moment when he thought she was dead, but his heart refused to accept comfort; he was convinced that some evil had befallen her during their long silence and nothing could persuade him otherwise.

"I just wish there was something I could do to help," he moaned softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wish I could do something, _anything_, but—"

"Uh, Toby?" The sound of a finger tapping on glass accompanied the familiar voice. "Is this thing working?" Another few taps. "Toooby?"

Toby lifted his tear stained face and saw someone he hadn't expected to see for the rest of his life. In the reflective glass of his sister's old vanity mirror, the round, slightly bulging face of Hoggle hovered inches from the glass, a finger poised to rap a third time against the glass. Through bleary, red eyes Toby could clearly discern that his friend was looking worse for the wear: his face was covered in dirt and sweat, his clothing rumpled and torn and a line of dried blood no more than a few days old marred his mottled forehead.

Hoggle took off his cap and rubbed his dirt-matted hair nervously, "Uh, Toby, d'ya think I could, you know, come in? We need a place to lay low for a while."

"Uh, sure, okay," said Toby, wiping his runny nose on the back of his sleeve. "But who's we?"

Before he could blink, Toby's bedroom was filled with noise: barking, stomping, wheezing, shouting, the clanking of metal and a loud bellowing roar. Toby felt himself picked up off the ground by a pair of hairy orange arms he recognized as belonging to his beastly friend Ludo. He watched his desk dwindle in size as he was hoisted into the air, his feet swinging freely and almost knocking a stack of books onto the floor.

"Let…me…go," he wheezed. "I…can't…breathe!"

He was set down on his feet and immediately rushed by other familiar faces; Sir Didymus bowed and doffed his cap deferentially as Ambrosius placed his forelegs on Toby's chest in order to lick his face repeatedly. Hoggle shook his hand, mumbling something under his breath about messes and loudmouths who don't know how to keep quiet before shrugging in defeat and joining in the hullabaloo with the rest.

There were a few scraggly goblins in the bunch as well, none of which Toby particularly recognized, but they ran up and shook his hand and clapped him on the back like old friends, so he had no choice but to smile and welcome them into his bedroom. When the noise had settled down to a dull roar, Hoggle motioned Toby aside.

"Your doin' us a great favor," he said in a muffled undertone. "Ya know, takin' us in like this."

"Sure," Toby replied lamely. "No problem. So what exactly are you—"

An angry howl cut Toby off mid-sentence and the two conversationalists discovered that in their absence, the goblins had decided to play poke-the-orange-beast-with-your-spear-and-run-away-so-he-doesn't-catch-you—a game that left Ludo frustrated and in pain.

"Shhhhhh!" Hoggle reprimanded furiously. "We're not in the Labyrinth anymore you numbskulls! This here is Toby's house and we ain't gonna make trouble for him while we're here. So quit bothering Ludo and do something useful for a change, like find a place for us to sleep."

When one of the bolder goblins made a dash for the hallway, Hoggle quickly amended, "In _here_! No leaving this room, any of you. If you do, I'll take you to the Bog of Eternal Stench myself." At the mention of the bog, the goblins rushed to comply—even goblins dreaded The Stench. Hoggle muttered, "Smelly half-brained nitwits," to himself as he withdrew again with Toby to the far side of the room.

"You, were saying?" Hoggle prompted.

"Oh, I guess I wanted to know what you were doing here, that's all," Toby replied.

Without hesitation, the dam burst, "Not that I'm not happy to have you, you have no idea how miserable my summer has been! I've had to mow lawns and plant flowers and take care of yucky Mrs. Ferguson's cats instead of going with my friends to Greece and all because I forgot to close my underwear drawer so my mom found the crystal Jareth gave me. And that wasn't all, not only did she find it, she had to go and tell my Dad about it because I wouldn't tell her about Sarah and Jareth being in the Underground. Then, _he _came—my dad, not Jareth—and tried to force me to tell him what was going on—but I didn't—and I accidentally dropped the crystal on the floor and it shattered so now I have _no_ idea if Sarah is okay or if she's hurt or dead or—"

"Whoa, there," Hoggle interrupted, clearly uncomfortable with the boy's emotional outburst. Toby was breathless and fresh tears had begun to pool in the corners of his eyes. "No need to cry about it. Sarah's all right, so far as I know. She went off on a quest to get a couple things—scissors or some such stuff—to bring Jareth back. I'm sure she's fine."

"Back?" Toby parroted, wiping his face with his sleeves to erase the tears.

"He was banished because he tried to help you out. Not to make you feel bad or nothing', but that crystal you broke got Jareth into a whole heap of trouble with the Court of the Wise. Especially after Ammon took over; he was the one who banished Jareth, all because he used to be in love with Jareth's mother and she turned him down a long time ago. Sure makes you glad you don't believe in love," Hoggle snorted.

"You don't believe in love, why not?" Toby asked innocently.

"Bah! Too much trouble. Besides, not many dwarf women want a beardless coward who works for the Goblin King," he added gruffly and swiftly changed the subject. "How long ago was it that you broke the crystal Jareth gave you?"

"Oh, about seven months ago, I think," said Toby. "I hadn't really been speaking much to Sarah before that, but I'd just gotten in contact with her again when my parent's found it and then it broke. They tried to get me to tell them about Sarah—I guess my mom saw something in the crystal when she picked it up—but I swear I didn't say anything."

"Wouldn't have done much good if you did, the Underground's not safe for outsiders right now. Hell, it's not even safe for _insiders_," Hoggle replied.

"Why not? What's been going on? I know Jareth's in trouble but that could hardly mess up the whole place, could it?"

"You'd be surprised, kid," Hoggle quipped.

"If that knave had left our lands alone, we would not have been forced to flee like rabbits in the night!" Sir Didymus interjected; he and Ludo had ambled over to stand behind Hoggle once the goblins were safely ensconced in Toby's closet.

"Man bad," Ludo assented with a nod of his shaggy head.

"What man? Did he try to take over the Labyrinth?" Toby queried anxiously. The image of his beloved Labyrinth being destroyed or attacked in any way stirred up an unusual combination of fear and courage within his child's heart.

"Not tried," Hoggle replied. "More like succeeded. Ammon has a son named Danic and when Jareth was banished, Ammon sent him to rule in Jareth's place. He said it was to provide stability, but this guy ain't a stable kind of guy. Humph, he's worse than Jareth _ever_ was."

"A knave and a scoundrel of the first rate!" Didymus cried vehemently. "If I had met him face to face, I would have challenged him to a duel to win back my lady's honor and kingdom. It disgraces the land to have a usurper on the throne in place of the rightful king!"

"Man _bad_!" Ludo agreed vigorously.

"Stinking bastard, Danic," Hoggle assented gruffly. "Only now he has control of the centaurs as well because his father put King Kyran and his wife in prison for being friend's of Jareth. Everyone else is running scared; they're trying not to get on Ammon's bad side, but Danic is mucking up the whole order of things, claiming that because he rules two kingdoms, he should have more power and respect. He's trying to amass an army to take over the other kingdoms—in secret, though, so no one will be ready for it when it comes."

"And that's not all," Hoggle added. "He absolutely hates the goblins. He tortures them with his magic and forces them to fight each other just to amuse himself."

Toby's fierce heart swelled with anger and he balled his little fists at his side wrathfully. "Who does this guy think he is? Doesn't he know how powerful Jareth is? Why if Jareth comes back, he'll mop the floor with him! And the poor goblins, how could he do that to them? Why don't they fight back?"

Despite being consistently annoyed by the ridiculous creatures, Hoggle jumped to their defense, "Oh, they all hate him, but they're too scared (and stupid) to know how to fight back. The goblins who came with us are the only ones with enough courage and brains to fight him, which is the reason they're on the run. We're all on the run actually."

"Friends in danger," Ludo moaned. "Friends need help."

"Thy order for retreat still sits ill with me," Didymus complained with a twirl of his staff. "Thy cowardice doth offend my sense of honor!"

"It's my cowardice that saved us, you mangy fox!" Hoggle retorted. "Danic was onto our schemes to raise a goblin rebellion and we needed to get out of there and stay out of his way for a while. He'll think we're gone for good and then, when the time is right we can jump back in and attack when he's least expecting it. Like I told you all before, now is the time when the coward's can win the rather than the heroes."

"Help friends," Ludo boomed.

"Yeah, we'll get back to them. I promise," Hoggle reassured Ludo with a pat on his arm.

Awkward silence descended on the room and no one seemed eager to break it. Toby shuffled his feet nervously, his mind viewing and reviewing the facts Hoggle had given him and what they meant for Sarah and Jareth. Where they really okay? Hoggle didn't have a concrete answer, which made Toby more anxious than he already was.

Fear consumed hope like a spider a trapped fly, sucking it dry and leaving only an empty husk in memorial. Try as he might, he couldn't share Hoggle's optimism without tangible evidence that Sarah and Jareth were both unharmed. And what about the Labyrinth? Would it really be safe in the absence of anyone to protect it from the cruel Danic? He pictured the walls crumbling to dust and the goblins screaming as an invading fire scorched the stones; fear gave way to fierce protectiveness and restless courage.

"So, what are we going to _do_ now?" Toby asked, shattering the silence with the full force of his troubled spirit.

"Do?" said Hoggle. "There's nothing we _can_ do now except wait."

"But I don't want to wait!" Toby stamped his foot impatiently. "We can't just sit here while stuff is going on, dangerous stuff, in the Underground. Aren't we going to do something about Danic?"

"At last!" exclaimed Sir Didymus in triumph. "Someone with the courage to stand and fight with me! Thy stout heart is to be admired, young Toby. Thou shalt make a valiant warrior when thou art a man. Come my brothers, let us to battle! Ambrosius, come here!"

At the word 'battle' Ambrosius had ducked for cover under Toby's bed and, seeing his steed thus shirking his duties, Didymus was forced to spend the next several moments crouched on the floor next to the bed in an attempt to coax the dog out from under it. Yet no matter how hard he whistled or how much he threatened, Ambrosius would not be budged.

"Hold on now, everyone," Hoggle commanded. "We can't just go charging straight back into Danic's hands."

"Sure we can!" Toby interjected. "Don't be such a coward, Hoggle. We have to help Jareth and Sarah!"

"But I _am_ a coward!" Hoggle insisted, his ears turning pink.

"Like Sarah always said, Hoggle: No, you're not. You a lot braver than you think you are," Hoggle looked away, embarrassed and unconvinced. "Come on, Hoggle, she's my sister. You helped her rescue me and you helped me rescue her, even though she didn't need it in the end. Let's go help her rescue Jareth and save the Underground!"

A chorus of voices cheered explosively when Toby finished. The goblins, peeking out from behind the closet door, had heard Toby's impromptu inspirational speech and were clapping their hands and stomping wildly in assent. Ludo roared his approval and Sir Didymus left off berating his mount long enough to yell, "Tally ho!" with an elaborate flourish of his pointed staff.

"Well," Hoggle muttered. "Since yer all against me, I guess we'll see what we can do."

"All right!" Toby yelled, pumping his fist in the air excitedly. "So what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Toby rushed to his closet but before he could begin to start stuffing tools and clothing into his backpack, he heard the front door slam shut, followed by the sound of two pairs of footprints on the hardwood of the entryway.

"Toby?" Robert called out from the bottom of the stairs. "We're home! We saw Mrs. Williams at the store and she wants you to come over this afternoon to help paint the garage." When his son didn't answer right away, Robert yelled louder, "Toby? Are you there?"

Upstairs, Toby was torn. Should he go downstairs and leave his friends to hide until they could get away without being noticed? Or should he go now, while his parents might think he was away at Mrs. Ferguson's? Go or stay? Hide or help?

He stood uncertain, as ten pairs of eyes stared at him questioningly; everyone was waiting on him.

The only thing he knew for certain was that Sarah was counting on him to make the right decision. In anguish, Toby wrestled with his conscience, _What would you do Sarah?_

**

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Thanks for reading everyone! I'm sorry I don't have anything fun for you guess at or anything this time around. I hope you enjoyed it anyway! As always, reviews and comments are welcomed and much appreciated!**


	30. The Lord of the Underworld

**Dun, dun, dun….we're coming down to the home stretch everybody. I think its about time I let you all see what Jareth's been up to. Enjoy!**

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"Out of my way," Jareth ordered brusquely. "I want to see him. Now." He swatted away a group of harmless guards as easily as flies, striding confidently toward a set of massive wrought-iron doors.

"Hades won't take kindly to being interrupted like this, especially by a nobody like you," remarked a snide, lanky black haired youth trailing at Jareth's heels.

"I'll disregard that comment," said Jareth coolly, "so long as you open the door. I'll not be trifled with by servants." Jareth spat the final word like a condemnation, showing scorn for the youth with every unmet gaze the boy sent in his direction. _Best not look at him, lest he think himself above his station; he's already pushing the limits of my patience. _

The black haired door-warden sniffed derisively but obeyed, eyeing Jareth's humble clothing and wild hair with disdain. His master disapproved of riffraff and the arrogant blonde ordering him around was precisely the kind Hades went to great lengths to avoid—self-important immortals thinking themselves above death, or purgatory to be more precise. The warden didn't know who this one was, but he knew Hades hated entanglements of this kind. The Lord of the Underworld hadn't maintained his power in the last several millennia by submitting to the idle whims of entrapped souls, even if they were immortals.

"Now, tell your master that the Goblin King and Master of the Labyrinth wishes an audience with him," Jareth commanded. The warden hesitated—one eyebrow rose dubiously—unsure whether Jareth's credentials were valid.

"Well?" Jareth waved an irritated hand at the black-haired youth and crossed his arms impatiently. "Go."

The youth complied, albeit reluctantly. He strode through the now open iron door and disappeared into the throne room. A few minutes later, he returned, looking pale, and silently gestured for Jareth to enter, though his wan features proclaimed he would do so at his own risk.

Jareth swept past the warden with little more than a glance in his direction, his gaze intent on the imposing scene before him. The throne room lacked ornamentation of any kind; naked walls rose in austere grandness, forming a large dome over his head supported by twin rows of columns in the same deathly shade as the walls and ceiling—the black marble in sharp contrast to the white sheen of the floor. At the far end of the rectangular room two ornately carved thrones of ebony wood—inlaid with rubies shaped like pomegranates with leaves and branches of gold—sat imperiously on a raised dais of the same black marble as the walls. But the real center of gravity lay not in the thrones themselves, but the two figures seated upon them.

The figure on the right immediately drew Jareth's attention, barely concealed shock written across his handsome features. Whatever he had been expecting, Hades was the opposite. Hair the color of honeyed wheat cascaded from his brow in gentle waves and a neatly trimmed bead graced his otherwise youthful face. His clothing was as ornate as the décor was stark: a shift of celestial blue beneath a robe of crimson embroidered with gold thread. In his left hand he held a smooth staff of the same wood as the throne and on his lap, a golden helm plumed with black feathers. He appeared an affable and amiable gentleman—not a man one would immediately associate with death and despair. However, despite his well-groomed appearance, he could not hide the avarice lurking in his heart and eyes; it glinted mercilessly from his depthless black eyes.

On Hades' right, Jareth beheld a woman who, were it not for the peevish set of her mouth and disdainful stare, might have been considered beautiful. White-blond hair interwoven with strands of pearls and diamonds was piled atop her regal head in intricate braids and loops to form a crown. Her lavender eyes and full lips were delicately painted with minimal makeup for maximum effect.

A gown of the finest white silk draped her perfectly formed figure modestly, though hiding none of her curves. Her only jewelry was a gold necklace set with six blood-red gemstones. Jareth briefly wondered how such a beautiful lady had become trapped in Hell and transformed into such a petulant creature—a flower frozen in time only to lose its splendor without the sun to warm it.

"Hades, my lady," Jareth called out in greeting once he had reached the foot of the dais. "Forgive my rudeness. Your guard seemed less than eager to allow me in to see you, but my need is great and therefore, I could not afford formality."

Hades did not move; the woman looked away, bored.

"You dare to come before me unannounced?" said Hades, his silvery voice stern yet beguiling. "Who are you, that you would brave the courts of the Lord of the Underworld without fear? Many have sought audience with me to no avail; it has been centuries since it has been done so boldly."

"Jareth, Goblin King of the Underground and Lord of the Labyrinth," replied Jareth confidently.

The woman flicked her eyes back to Jareth with renewed interest while her husband stroked his beard thoughtfully. Suddenly, his face broke into a stunning grin, his features displaying nothing but the charm and graciousness of a welcoming host. "I heard that a new guest from the Underground had arrived, but I was not expecting it to be you. I had though…ah well, nevermind. You are here and I welcome you to my court."

Jareth tried to keep his face an unreadable mask, but the woman must have sensed his confusion, for she addressed him immediately. "Our last arrival from the Underground blamed you for her banishment," said she, her face twisted with fiendish pleasure. "She had a most interesting, and juicy, tale to tell. Since then, I have been most eager to meet you; how fortuitous that you, of all the Underground Kings, have come to join us."

"My wife, Persephone," said Hades, motioning in the woman's direction. "I'm afraid being the Queen of the Underground is not quite thrilling enough for her. She thrives on gossip and intrigue. Sadly, there is not much else I can offer her in terms of amusement, not since my brother so tragically failed in his attempt to rule Terra. She finds delight where she can."

Jareth bowed deferentially and Persephone smiled coyly, her lavender eyes sparkling beneath her long lashes. Hades glanced at her sternly and she relapsed into a moody silence, her face unreadable except for the slight twinkle in her eye whenever she looked at Jareth.

"What is your business with me, Goblin King?" Hades asked—once more the pleasant host, ever charming, yet Jareth sensed the cunning lurking beneath the polite veneer.

"I must return to the Underground," Jareth replied. "And you are the only one here with the authority to accomplish that."

Hades thin lips curled into a winning smile. "And why should I let you go? You are a denizen of my kingdom, now, Jareth. You may have been a king in the Underground, but you have neither power nor authority in the Underworld. Here, I rule," his smile disappeared yet his voice retained the same melodic lilt, "and I do not allow my subjects to leave."

"That may be so under ordinary circumstances," said Jareth calmly, his mismatched eyes twinkling with mischief and self-confidence, "But this once you must make an exception."

"Must I?" Hades scoffed, chuckling airily. "To what purpose? You are no more important than any other immortal. You do not understand the rules of this world Jareth. No one goes free. My two brothers, their wives, children and lovers are denizens of this land and have been for several hundred years. If I have not loosed their bonds, why should I release yours?"

Jareth felt irritation budding in his breast and he endeavored to quell it. "Because," he stated boldly, "I need to return to the Underground to save it, and everything in it, from complete annihilation. Just as Apollo prophesied centuries ago. I have a mission and you can't keep me from it."

"I can," Hades remarked coolly. "And I will. Even if you are on a mission to save the Underground, that in no way affects me. Your people were banished to the Underground millennia ago and I cannot be bothered to care whether it is destroyed or not."

"You're not listening," Jareth retorted in frustration. His anger had finally reached boiling point. "The Underground is not the only thing at stake. The future of your world and the Aboveground is bound up with my work in the Underground. You cannot—"

"I can do what I please, _Goblin King_," said Hades, all charm gone. The only signs of emotion on his impassive countenance were the white knuckles of his left hand where they gripped the spear. "You have intruded on my time and patience for long enough. I shall not be ordered about by a powerless fool whose family is a disgrace and manner, insolent. Begone."

Jareth felt a pair of strong hands grip his arms on either side. Indignant, he struggled against them but their iron grip refused to budge. He felt himself being dragged out of the room against his will and he cried out fiercely, "Hades! You will regret this someday! When the world comes crashing down around your ears you'll regret that you didn't listen to me."

Hades remained distantly unaffected. Jareth drew breath and tried a fresh tactic, "Don't do this, Hades. Please, don't do this. You're condemning the world—all three worlds—to annihilation; you'll be gone too and the kingdom you've prided yourself on will be nothing more than a million shattered pieces floating through space."

Hades' face remained outwardly calm but his eyes glittered darkly. "Hades!" Jareth shouted as he heard the scrape of iron on marble behind him. "Dammit, Hades!" The doors slammed shut, the echo ringing with finality.

"Didn't go as you expected did it?" Sneered the door warden. "I warned you not to interrupt Hades." A pale, shadowy figure glided up to the warden and whispered into his ear. The warden turned to Jareth, "Ah, the Queen Persephone has requested that a room be prepared for you and Apollo in the King's guest quarters. Daedalus will show you to your room while I find your companion. I presume he's nosing about the library again, gods of wisdom will do that if left unattended."

The warden scurried off in the opposite direction as a nearby shade glanced at Jareth mournfully, gliding past him in the direction of the rooms indicated. "It's a good thing my lady has taken a liking to you," the warden called after him. "Otherwise you'd be sent to the Morass for disturbing Hades with your impertinence."

Jareth followed the shade down an intricate series of torch-lit hallways—silent as a grave, for even his footfalls made no sound on the white marble floor. They turned a final corner and the shade gestured listlessly at a set of oak doors with brass rings before turning back down the hallway. Drawing a breath, Jareth placed his hand on one of the rings only to have it immediately covered by a soft, feminine hand with well-manicured nails and a feather-light touch.

"Won't you let me come in with you, Jareth?" Persephone whispered silkily into his ear. "I've arranged for a few hours of time for us while my husband addresses a matter of state. It seems Sisyphus has gotten free of his enchantment and must be returned to his proper place. That leaves us with plenty of time to ourselves."

Jareth felt Persephone's body press against his side; she reached one hand up to play with his hair, entwining strands of his hair around her long, delicate fingers. He didn't dare move, lest she mistake his discomfort for encouragement.

"I can help you, Jareth, if you'll let me," she urged, blowing softly into his ear and nibbling his earlobe. She trailed her fingertips lightly up his wrist and arm, returning downward across his chest toward his waistline. "I want you."

Her fingers paused at his navel and she gazed up into his face, the flames of passion burning in her eyes like twin purple bonfires. Cupping his face in her hands, she pulled it down and locked her lips onto his with fierce abandon. Jareth placed his hands on her waist and slowly but inexorably, pushed her away.

"I'm flattered, your highness, but I am a married man," Jareth stated gently.

"Persephone," the Queen purred. "There is no formality between us, Jareth. And where is your wife, might I ask? In the Underground? I thought so. There's no harm in indulging yourself when you will never see her again. She's but a memory, unreachable, ephemeral. Whereas I, Goblin King, I am very, very real." She placed her hands on his chest and, running them upward, twined her arms about his neck.

"Not only that," said Persephone coyly. "I can help you in a way she cannot."

"And how is that?" Jareth replied archly, once more disentangling himself from the Queen's vine-like grasp.

"I can change Hades' mind. Despite his stern looks, Hades adores me and he will do anything I ask him to do," she thrust her hip out seductively. "Trust me."

Persephone glided toward him a third time, but Jareth was prepared. He sidestepped her and laid hold of the brass knocker on his chamber door. Persephone clutched at his free arm, but Jareth shook her off and, rounding on her forcefully, summoned up the remainder of his strength.

"_No,_" he said, imperious. For a brief second, Jareth thought he felt the tingle of his magic stirring in the air around him, but it vanished as swiftly as it had come.

Persephone's eager face fell; her shoulders shook with rage. The bitter sting of rejection turned fire to ice in her breast. "You should never have scorned me, Jareth," she snapped icily. "You best hope I never lay eyes on your wife, because if I do, I shall not be held responsible for what I do to her, or to you." She turned swiftly and was gone, leaving behind only the lingering scent of lilacs.

Jareth flopped unceremoniously onto the bed. Rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, he reached into his tunic with the other hand and withdrew the leather-bound dairy he'd purloined from Apollo's study. He opened the book to where he'd left off reading but weariness soon overtook him completely. He snored lightly as he book dropped facedown onto his chest, his legs flung wide and his wild hair falling unkempt onto his closed eyes.

The inside handle to his bedroom door turned slightly, but the door remained shut. A gold key glinted in the lock by the light of Jareth's dying candle. Outside, the intruder swore softly and tiptoed away, her attempts unsuccessful. When he awoke in a few hours, Jareth would never know the wisdom of always choosing to lock his door when sleeping in an unfamiliar place, or how close he'd come to betraying his beloved Sarah.

_

* * *

Many think of magic as an inanimate tool, like a sword or spear whose power lies completely in the skill and strength of the user. Still others think of it as an elemental force of its own—fluid, unfixed and ever-changing like water, fire or air—that requires only subtle manipulation to direct it toward the desired end. Neither one of these explanations is correct in and of itself. _

_Though a useful tool, magical power transcends the wielder alone; though fluid, magic requires more than manipulation to bring out its full potency and though elemental, it is neither physical nor visible to the naked eye. One might say magic is most closely akin to pure energy, like light, heat, or magnetism—intangible, elusive, yet profoundly basic. One might even say that like these things, it is a natural part of our environment; it cannot be destroyed, only its use forgotten and the skill to wield it, atrophied. _

_Put more strongly, magic holds the world together, not metaphorically—in a banal, metaphysical way—but literally. I have spent ample time testing this hypothesis and my results are conclusive. We have long known of the three-tiered nature of our world—Terra, Tartarus and Erebus—but I now know what holds all three in place: magic. _

_The nature of this bond is part of the mystical nature of magic itself. My studies are still preliminary—being the god of wisdom and music doesn't afford itself much leisure time for my personal pursuits. However, what I find is quite interesting. Like any energy, magical energy can be disrupted: a spell can be undone, a hex reversed, or an illusion shattered. I believe it is possible to disrupt even the magic holding this world together, if the wielder were powerful enough, yet the damage such a disruption causes would be catastrophic if left unchecked. Such an attempt to disrupt it, therefore, is ill advised at best and apocalyptic at worst. _

_Understanding the nature of magic may provide a clue to how such a disruption could occur, and if it did, how it could be reversed. One must begin with understanding magic as energy and therefore, the nature of energy. Energy as recent—and future—science understands it…_

Jareth slammed the book shut in frustration. The book was practically useless—Persephone and Hades had seen to that. Without any hope of escape, an understanding of the nature of the magical disruption Zeus had created, and how to undo it, benefited no one, as useful as noseplugs or perfume in the Bog of Stench.

Suddenly, Jareth felt a cold chill on his forearm; despair overwhelmed him as he felt the life leeching from his soul through his skin. Fighting the whirlpool blackness, he looked up into the ashen, despairing face of the shade Daedalus. One corner of his morose mouth twitched slightly, then he immediately turned and disappeared through the closed door of Jareth's bedchamber. Leaving Apollo's diary on the bed, Jareth hurried after the silvery ghost, certain the matter must be pressing for him to be summoned so informally.

Daedalus led him on a merry chase through the corridors of Hades palace, gliding swiftly and ceaselessly, always several hundred yards ahead. When he halted in front of the wrought iron doors of the throne room, Jareth barely had time to register where he was before the querulous door warden ushered him unceremoniously through them.

Before him sat Hades and Persephone in all their stately, paradoxical glory. The latter stared him down dourly, seething resentment boiling beneath the thin veneer of patrician nobility. Hades sat as impassively as he had previously, one hand resting on the golden helm in his lap, the other wrapped about his staff. A third person stood at the base of the dais, her back to him so that all he could see was a thick cascade of ebony hair.

"Ah, Jareth, please come in," Hades greeted charitably. "You have a visitor."

The dark haired woman turned to face him and Jareth's heart stopped. The room faded to a jumbled haze, his vision myopically centered on the woman's face—a face he never expected to see before it joined the ranks of the soul-sucking dead around him. He drank in the sight like a dying man, his thirst: unquenchable.

"Sarah," he breathed. He was running—faster than pain, faster than desire, faster than sound or light or the beating of his own heart. He didn't even realize that the haze was due to the tears streaming down his elegant face.

"Sarah!" Every fiber of his being screamed her name and every heartbeat was an echo of his soul's longing, each breath, a tender kiss of pure ecstasy.

**

* * *

Well, she made it! Tune in next time to see how she did it and how it will all turn out! I bet you thought Persephone was going to seduce Jareth ;) Please leave reviews to let me know how you liked it and I shall hopefully, see you all very soon. **


	31. I'll Lay My Love Between the Stars

**As most of you requested, I'm back to Sarah (not that I was going to skip her, I just want you all to know I think of you when I write). How did she win her immortality and get to the Underworld? Read on to find out!**

* * *

Pain—years later, all Sarah would recall of her death would be the physical agony—piercing, excruciating, mind-numbingly horrific pain. Every cell in her body was on fire with the need for oxygen, for life. Sarah couldn't breath—though her lungs ached to draw breath, her muscles refused to comply. Her heart was a bomb on the verge of exploding—racing toward finality, yet at the same time, slowing down. The thunder of her heartbeat was fading with each moment, each beat of her heart bringing her closer to death in incremental, searing seconds of infinite time.

She could feel her baby convulsing in her womb—its kicks growing weaker as both their hearts failed. She cried out in pain for herself and her child, wishing she could spare the unborn baby the trauma of death. _To gain immorality, you have to be willing to sacrifice your own life—one life for another,_ Sarah's thoughts, though truthful, did nothing to comfort her in the pain. Her child, no longer kicking, sent weak messages of love and fear. And pain.

_I know it hurts, baby,_ Sarah soothed. _I'm sorry, but we're doing this for your father. And I'm doing this for you. I want us both to be able to live, here, in the Underground, with your father forever. Only forever…but I'm so sorry; we'll be okay, I promise. Trust me. _

_And I'll trust Chronus and Rhea, for the both of us,_ she thought to herself. In her final seconds of consciousness, she recalled their words to her only minutes before the pain began:

"_Sarah, you must, of your own accord, give up your life. With Nona's distaff you must wind your lifethread into a spool then, place the end of it in our hands. Finally, with Morta's shears, you must, of your own volition and willpower, cut the thread. Do you understand? You must destroy your very life with your own hands if you are to gain immortality."_

"_I understand," Sarah replied. "Give me the distaff."_

The pain increased as her heartbeat decreased, making coherent thought impossible. All her brain was capable of registering was the agony of impending death. One agonizingly slow heartbeat later, and the pain disappeared along with everything else. Mother and child lay dead in Chronus and Rhea's house.

A second later, Sarah's jade green eyes flew open and she gasped for air, choking as her lungs became overfull with the fresh air. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest, as if making up for the time lost in her death. Two hands flew to her abdomen and for an excruciating minute, Sarah felt nothing; her baby was not responding.

"Oh, god," she choked. "My baby." A new pain flooded her weakened body—a pain worse than death: heartache.

"Don't worry Sarah," she heard Rhea assure her from somewhere nearby. "The baby will be fine, just give it time to recover. You're a lot older and stronger; immortality isn't instantaneous."

As soon as Rhea finished speaking, Sarah felt the kick of her baby's foot against her hands—feeble and delicate as a butterfly's wings. Relief overwhelmed her, tears springing to her eyes as she felt the reassurance flowing from her baby's heart to her own. _I'm alright mamma,_ it seemed to be telling her.

Thus convinced of her child's wellbeing, Sarah's focus returned to her companions and she turned her head to find Chronus and Rhea seated next to her by the bed. "So that's it?" Sarah asked.

"You want more?" Chronus teased. "You certainly are a glutton for punishment. Not that I'm judging you, but you must be one hell of a masochist if you are expecting to receive any more suffering from us."

Sarah stuck her tongue out feebly as Chronus broke into a wide grin. "You're trails are over, Sarah," Rhea comforted. "At least, the ones on this side of the barrier."

"I still have to go get Jareth," she added, raising herself up on her elbows. "How do I get there?"

"Whoa! Hold on there, little lady!" Chronus threw up his hands in shock. "You really are a masochist aren't you? You just _died_ and you want to go down to Erebus now to get Jareth back? From death to immortality to hell in fifteen minutes flat—that must be some kind of record."

"You're in no condition to travel anywhere, Sarah," said Rhea in a motherly tone. "You must rest before you continue your journey. If not for your sake," Rhea added when Sarah opened her mouth to protest. "At least for your child's. Gaining immortality this way wreaks havoc on your physical and emotional strength. Adding a magical strain on both of you would be inadvisable. Please Sarah, just rest for a day, gain your strength."

"Facing Hades will require all your considerable skills of persuasion and more than a little belligerence, which we all know you're capable of," Chronus twinkled and Sarah bit back a retort when she saw the good humor in his eyes. "A rest will let you recharge; you don't want to rush in looking like hell do you?"

Rhea rolled her eyes at her husband's pun, but she did not gainsay him, which left Sarah with no alternative but to acquiesce to their continued care, albeit reluctantly. They left the room to allow her time to rest, promising both a good meal when she woke and the magic she would need to travel safely to the Underworld and back. As soon as the door was shut, Sarah fell immediately into a deep, healing sleep; she hadn't been able to admit it openly, but she was more tired than she'd ever been in her life.

* * *

Sarah looked warily at the plain gold ring on her right hand; it seemed out of place, unfamiliar. The only piece of jewelry she'd ever worn on her hands was Jareth's ring and that, on her left hand. The simple circlet of gold encircling her thumb felt alien and strange. _Why is it that this piece of jewelry feels stranger than knowing that I'm no longer mortal?_

In truth, her body felt no different than it had yesterday, when she had been no more than a human girl caught up in a world and quest far bigger than her girlish dreams could ever have imagined. Today, though still trapped in a world of fantasy, she felt no different than she had when she'd been a girl of sixteen.

She could not wrap her mind around the truth of her new nature. Intellectually, she could comprehend that something _must_ have changed—she had physically died and been brought back to life presumably as an immortal woman with an immortal child in her womb. Yet, her body felt the same as it always had. There was no beautifying transformation to someone of unearthly beauty and stunning physique, no sparkle or glimmer that bespoke her true nature. Deep down, she realized that since Jareth lacked these things—he was, of course, painfully handsome, but that was the result of genetics rather than magic—since he lacked them, she would as well. Her brain understood this, but she still struggled to reconcile what she _knew_ with what she _felt_, and she felt human.

Chronus and Rhea had reassured her that the ceremony had worked and if she doubted it, her arrival in Erebus unscathed would prove it to her beyond all doubt. In preparation for her departure, they had given her the simple golden band, commanding her to wear it on her right thumb and never take it off until she had returned to them with Jareth.

"That ring is your lifeline and admission," Rhea explained. "It will help take you to Hades palace and once you arrive, gain you entry into his court without question. He will know we have sent you, though that may or may not induce him to help you."

"He may be our son, but there is no love lost between us after all these years," Chronus added. "He was always a power-hungry, greedy boy and I fear his waxing authority in the Underworld has not constrained his avarice. He will not give up Jareth without a fight."

"You must, and will, be strong, Sarah," said Rhea gently. "You have defeated a man of great power once and you were no more than a child, then. If you are indomitable, Hades will have no power over you."

"Thank you," Sarah whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "Thank you for everything."

Rhea cupped Sarah's face, wiping her tears with her thumbs. "Though you may not understand it, we love you Sarah. Now, be courageous and do not waste time."

"Go get 'em!" Chronus cheered.

"What am I supposed to do?" asked Sarah, fingering the gold ring. "How does it work?"

"Just tell yourself where you want to go: Hades palace in the Underworld. You can close your eyes if you'd like, it sometimes helps," Rhea replied.

"All right, here goes," Sarah closed her eyes tightly, and thought hard about Hades palace. She disappeared from sight soundlessly, leaving her beloved Underground for places unknown.

"Do you think we should have told her she used her own magic to get there?" asked Chronus, turning to his wife with an impish grin.

"She'll discover that on her own, someday. Right now, she has more important things to worry about," Rhea answered.

"As do we, lovely wife of mine." Chronus grinned, sweeping his wife up into his arms gallantly and carrying her from the room. "Sarah will be a while, so let's make the most of it."

* * *

Sarah opened one eye experimentally, half-expecting to see Chronus and Rhea staring back at her, amused at her failed attempt to leave the Underground. But instead of her hosts, Sarah saw an imposing black gate surrounded by massive walls whiter than a winter snowfall but without any of its luster.

There was not a soul in sight of where she stood; the land was as barren as the winter landscape it simulated. Summoning the dormant warrior-queen to the surface, she strode forward confidently and knocked once on the gate towering above her at nearly five times her height. She heard the click of a latch and a tiny door at sight level opened in the center of the gate and a pale, youthful face poked through, staring round to find the source of disturbance.

"What do _you_ want out here, immortal?" The youth spoke in a nasal, peevish tone reminiscent of a spoiled British aristocrat. "You're from the Underground aren't you? All you immortals are nowadays. No doubt here to complain that you were banished unfairly and so on. Live for eternity and whine for eternity when that life isn't what you want.

"Well, Hades isn't receiving visitors at the moment. He has his hands full with one of your kind already, so you can just scamper off to whatever corner of paradise you deem worth your extended stay because you're going to be here for a while. Goodbye."

The head disappeared back through the hole and the tiny door shut before Sarah could get a word in edgewise. Frustrated, Sarah knocked again, this time, more forcefully.

"What?!" The peevish youth barked in exasperation, his head poking back through the hole like a demented jack-in-the-box. "I _told_ you to go away, now if you don't mind—"

"I _do_ mind," Sarah retorted angrily, fire blazing in her eyes. "Now shut up and listen to me." The youth complied immediately, in awe of the power radiating from the seemingly harmless woman before him.

"I'm here to see Hades and I will not be denied. My husband has been wrongfully banished here and I have come of my own volition from the Underground to free him. You have a choice, either you let me in or so help me I will tear down this gate with my own bare hands," Sarah said sternly.

The youth's face turned two shades paler—an impressive feat for his already deathly pallor—and he slammed the small door shut in her face hastily. Sarah raised her hand to knock once more, but the gate moved under her hand, groaning loudly in protest as the youth strained to pull it open.

"Thank you," said Sarah officiously as she swept past the youth. "Let this be a lesson to you: never piss off a pregnant woman by denying her something she wants. Now, take me to Hades."

The petulant boy led her through a barren courtyard to the waiting castle beyond, sniveling and muttering to himself the whole way. Sarah disregarded him, all she could think about was Jareth being trapped in such a gloomy place and what it must have done to him in the past nine months.

_Hell,_ she mused. _An apt term for such a dismal place. There may not be much fire and brimstone—at least, that I can see—but I find the dreariness and emptiness of the land far more depressing than fire. At least in fire, you can feel something, even if it is pain and suffering. I would rather feel pain than the nothingness I can feel seeping into my bones from the very atmosphere here. Its as if it sucks the life right out of you._ She shivered, gooseflesh appearing on her arms.

_I hope it isn't too late for him_. Her thoughts trailed to the possible emotional state of her husband at this moment. _What if he went mad? Chronus told me that being here strips away your powers. Without his magic or his authority, would Jareth be able to survive without losing his mind? He's never been without either…oh hush Sarah, you know better than to think the worst of Jareth. He's a fighter and always will be. If he can survive seven years with a broken heart, festering in bitterness and plotting revenge, he can last nine months in hell—the former is probably a worse hell than this, at least where his heart is concerned. _

Her thoughts were interrupted by the black-haired youth coughing loudly and rolling his eyes in the direction of a pair of wrought-iron doors.

"Hades courtroom, my lady, what name should I give him when I explain why I am interrupting his privacy for yet anther complaining immortal?" He asked snidely.

"Tell him Sarah Williams, Goblin Queen and Conqueror of the Labyrinth, wife of Jareth wishes to see him," the lad turned, but Sarah wasn't finished. "Tell him also that his mother and father—Chronus and Rhea—sent me personally that I might speak with him regarding the fate of my beloved."

The youth's lips tightened at the mention of the former King and Queen of heaven and Sarah discerned a slight quiver of fear pass through the warden's frame before he turned on his heel and entered the courtroom.

In his absence, Sarah felt the creep of nervousness draw near. Fear whispered in her ears, telling her to turn back before she met her doom. Fighting against the urge to run, Sarah checked her hair and dress cursorily, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smoothing the rich amethyst gown over her swollen abdomen—Rhea had graciously provided a new wardrobe for Sarah when she arrived, telling her that she must look like the true royalty she was when she arrived to confront Hades.

The warden returned, looking anxious for once instead of annoyed, and ushered her silently into the throne room, where she was forced to wait at the foot of the dais while Daedalus summoned her beloved from his philosophical musings. Hades and the imperious looking woman sitting next to him said nothing while she waited. The woman—Sarah supposed her to be Hades' wife—stared at her spitefully, resentment rolling off her porcelain skin in thick waves. Hades eyed her carefully, as if measuring her.

"Sarah!" Jareth screamed her name, his voice filled with desire and shock. Sarah turned to face him, love over whelming her at the sight of her beloved king and husband. Her heart swelled in her breast and she could feel the joy in her baby's voice as it leapt and danced within her womb, sending wave upon wave of happy nonsense to its mother's jubilant heart. Both mother and child were too full for words.

She beamed radiantly, her face aflame with desire and fulfilled yearning. She could do no more than whisper his name, her muted voice barely audible to her own ears. He was close now, so close she could see the tears in his wonderfully mismatched eyes. His wild hair flew behind him and his features—though ragged—were as handsome as ever; she longed to run into his arms and kiss him until he couldn't breath, but dignity held her in check.

Though a reunion between husband and wife, Sarah could not forget her purpose or her surroundings. She could see Hades and his Queen out of the corner of her eye, assessing her—one with visible malice, the other with calculation. She ached for a moment of intimacy alone for herself and Jareth before she bartered for his life, knowing it to be impossible—she must remain strong and serene.

Jareth was within a yard of her now; he had crossed the throne room in seconds once he had recognized her. "Sarah," he crooned, "Oh Sarah, Sarah."

He could do no more than speak her name over and over, but to Sarah's eager ears, it was the music of heaven. She stretched out her hands to clasp his, twining her delicate fingers through his strong ones as he pressed his lips to her forehead passionately.

"Jareth, my love," she moved back, untwining her fingers to place her hands tenderly on either side of his face. One finger traced the line of his jaw and came to rest on his lips. "I've come to bring you home." He wrapped his arms fiercely about her in reply, but recoiled instantly when he realized he could not pull her close to him. His eyes widened as he saw her swollen belly; his mouth opened, his lips moving wordlessly. The erudite king was speechless.

"I've been wanting to tell you for a while," she grinned, a teasing glint in her loving green eyes. "I'm pregnant."

"Yes," Hades' Queen sneered, interrupting their intimacy with vitriol. "We can all see that, Goblin Queen. I'm surprised you would make such a dangerous journey carrying your child with you; frankly, I'm even more surprised that you both survived, humans don't usually last so long under such strenuous circumstances."

Sarah could not comprehend the undertone of malice in the beautiful woman's harsh words. There was something she was missing, something important, but before she had a chance to ask Jareth what it might be, Hades took command of the situation.

"Persephone," he replied harshly. "That is no way to greet a guest, no matter what your feelings toward her husband might be." Sarah's eyebrow rose. "Forgive my wife, Goblin Queen, she has a penchant for jealousy. Apparently it has blinded her to the truth of your situation: though born a human, you are clearly no longer mortal, so I welcome you to my lands and am grateful that I need not deprive such a beauty of her life.

"Had you come to me mortal," he explained. "I would have had no choice but to destroy you. You see, with Terra being in the state it is, no mortal descends to my domain and remains alive, not since my lascivious brother ruined it with his unquenchable passion for human woman. A few millennia ago and it would have been different, but times have changed. It is the sad, but plain truth."

"I know this," Sarah replied deferentially, bowing as gracefully as she could despite her girth. "And that is why I have journeyed so long before coming here," Sarah drew breath and continued, her voice swelling with dignity. "For nine months I have traveled the Underground in my quest to rescue my beloved from his wrongful imprisonment. I have traveled the far reaches of that land in search of three tokens—gained from the very hands of the Three Sisters—that were required in order that I might gain immortality for myself and for my child."

She glanced lovingly at Jareth and placed one hand on her abdomen, with the other, she took Jareth's hand and squeezed it gently.

"I retrieved these tokens—distaff, shears and my own lifethread—and took them to the house of Chronus and Rhea at the far side of the Great Desert of Fire. There, I took my lifethread in my own hands, spun it upon the distaff and cut it with the shears of death, sacrificing my mortal life in exchange for an immortal one. Thus it is that I enter your land in safety, knowing that I cannot be harmed by you, nor indeed, by anyone. I have come for one purpose, Hades, to ask that you give me my husband. And I forewarn you, I will not leave here without him."

Hades sat through her speech immobile, weighing her words and measuring her character with his greedy black eyes. He noted her posture—straight, strong, yet protective both of her unborn child (with one hand on her womb) and her husband (her hand holding his as she stood slightly in front of him). Her green eyes blazed with determined, feminine fury. Though she lacked a crown, no one seeing her would deny that she was a queen. Her very countenance reflected her status—noble, strong, fierce, yet tender and passionate, a shieldmaiden, mother and lover together in one beautiful woman.

She intrigued him, delighted him, entranced him. Never in his life had he met with such a captivating creature. He forgot Persephone's attempts to seduce the Goblin King—he had known of them from the beginning, subtlety was not one of his wife's gifts. He could forgive her amorous attentions to the husband for the sake of the wife; at that moment, he would happily have left Jareth to Persephone's calculations if he could have Sarah. More than anything else in his life, he wanted this woman and he knew precisely how he could have her.

He smiled graciously at her, rubbing his chin lightly with one finger. "Your tale intrigues me, Goblin Queen. No one could deny that your courage has been great, especially in the face of such trials. To have gained immortality from those I once called mother and father is no easy task. And then to have come here freely, knowing what it might cost you and your child…ah, I have rarely met with such bravery in a woman."

Persephone sniffed angrily at her husband's unexpected praise and resigned herself to brooding sulkily on her throne. Sarah looked stunned at Hades manner, but Jareth gave her hand an encouraging squeeze and muttered so only she could hear, "I didn't expect him to be this personable either, just be careful he's as capricious as he is affable."

"Sounds kind of like someone I know," Sarah teased.

"I would hope you think better of me than that," Jareth retorted.

"Oh believe me, I do. You're a bit better looking," Sarah answered. Desire burned in Jareth's eyes, but he held his emotion in check. They shared an amused silence before Sarah turned to face the Lord of the Underworld once again.

"Thank you, your highness," said Sarah with pleasure, her cheeks turning an enticing shade of pink. Jareth's heart nearly burst with pride—he could see Hades admiring Sarah and enjoyed the fact that she was _his_ wife. He especially enjoyed the look of bitter jealousy on Persephone's face. He caressed Sarah's face affectionately with his free hand, watching Persephone's eyes narrow before she turned away angrily; he smirked roguishly and kissed the back of Sarah's hand.

"You're enjoying this far too much, Jareth," Sarah spoke under her breath. "Leave the poor woman alone." Jareth rolled his eyes playfully, but nodded silently. Their interactions did not go unnoticed by the Lord of the Underworld. Glancing sideways at his wife, he grinned deviously, a plan forming in his mind.

"I have half a mind to yield to your request," Hades said grandly. The other three stared in amazement, "But only half a one. The other half is quite reluctant to let any citizen of my lands go free. I don't know what my unfortunate parents have told you Sarah, but I rule Erebus with a firm hand; I am not lax in justice and there is no mercy. Whether you were rightfully or wrongfully banished is not my concern, Goblin King, but now that you are here—and have been for nine Underground months—here you shall stay. Unless," he tapped his chin thoughtfully, "unless your wife is willing to make a wager with me."

"A wager?" Jareth repeated darkly. "What kind of wager?"

"Oh nothing dangerous of course," said Hades airily. "Quite a harmless one really, a test if you will, and I know just the one that will work."

"No," Jareth said, the word ringing with finality.

"Jareth, wait," said Sarah. "We don't know what it is yet."

"I will not allow you to play games with the King of the Underworld, Sarah," Jareth answered. "I've read enough of the histories to understand that no matter how harmless he says this is, you don't want to do anything he says. It always ends up badly."

"Jareth," Sarah pressed, her voice gentle but stern. "Do you trust me?"

Jareth looked shocked, "What?!"

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do," he replied warmly. He reached up to caress her cheek. "You're my life and heartbeat, my only reason for living, how could you think I didn't?"

"Then you must let me do this," Sarah said. She placed her hands on either side of his face and looked him in the eyes. "I came here to rescue you, Jareth. Don't you understand? I will do anything, _anything_ to get you back again. No matter the cost." She turned to Hades, "What are the terms?"

"Good! Now we're getting somewhere. You do not disappoint, Sarah," Hades smiled, exuding charm. "The terms of the bargain are these, if you win, you get to take Jareth home with you to the Underground. If you fail, both of you will stay here for eternity and you, Sarah, will become my Queen."

Persephone shrieked; Jareth fumed and Sarah stared calmly into Hades piercing black eyes. "Agreed," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Then let the game begin!" Hades struck his staff on the ground and roared with laughter as everything went black.

**

* * *

Another cliffhanger, sorry! I was planning on keeping it all in one chapter, but I got here and realized I had **_**way**_** too much to put in here so instead of keeping you waiting, I split it into two. Stay tuned, the second half isn't far behind! **

**Man, Hades creeps even me out when I write him. He's so devious. Don't you wonder what he has in mind for Sarah?? If you have the time, leave a review! When you do, it makes my day and remember, you get a personal thanks from me (in my A/N) when I finish!  
**


	32. Everything's Dancing

**Hades: Muahahaha! I have you now, Sarah. What are you going to do?**

**Me: Hold your horses, dude. Wait for the story to start; **_**then**_**, you can laugh as maliciously as you want okay?**

**Hades: Fine. Spoilsport. **

**Me: Hey, I'm the one in charge here. Enjoy it folks!**

* * *

Flickering light filtered softly through the air to where Sarah stood waiting, uncertain whether to move or remain standing in the darkness. A cool breeze swirled around her and she instantaneously felt the presence of her adversary behind her, his body within inches of her own.

"Are you certain you're ready, Sarah?" Hades' soft voice whispered in her ear—she could feel his breath on her earlobe as his arm snaked out beside her to point at the distant light. "Your test is this: beyond that screen lies a room, one you will be familiar with, I think, from your previous journeys."

"How very kind of you to choose a setting I would recognize," Sarah retorted sarcastically.

"I do my best," Hades whispered, charm dripping from his lips and entangling itself in her hair. "I plucked it from your memory, if you don't mind the intrusion."

"I do, actually," Sarah replied.

She felt him shrug his shoulders—a movement that brought his arm briefly into contact with her own and she flinched involuntarily. "Over time, dear Sarah, you will grow accustomed to my touch, that is, if you fail." He breathed deeply of the scent of her hair and Sarah took a step forward and away, unwilling to be bullied by his intimate advances.

"So what is in this room?" She asked, still staring at the light instead of Hades.

Hades chuckled and followed her, once again placing his lips within inches of her face. "Your husband. All you must do is find him. If you do, you may go home, but if you don't," Hades caressed her cheek, "you will be mine."

With the sound of fabric billowing in the wind, Hades disappeared.

"Creep," Sarah muttered under her breath. She scrubbed her cheek with her sleeve and made a retching noise. "I guess I can't expect a guy who hangs out with dead people to be anything other than a dirty, disgusting bastard. Come on child, let's not waste time."

Striding forward, Sarah noted that the source of the flickering light was shielded from her view by a semi-transparent fabric. Scrim-like, she could see figures moving on the other side but could not make out any details. She pulled it aside and stepped into another world—a world she'd left behind many years ago.

"Dancing," she said softly to none but herself. "Everything's dancing."

The scene before her had haunted her dreams for many a night in the seven years between her first and second arrivals in the Underground: haunted, teased and tormented her with its beauty and discomfiture. Looking down, she saw her amethyst gown had been replaced with a familiar ball gown of white satin embroidered with iridescent jewels. With off-shoulder puffed sleeves and glittering white shoes, she felt like the teenage girl she had once been when she'd first arrived in this room: a childlike Cinderella arriving at the ball only to discover she didn't belong. A nearby mirror told her that her hair, makeup and jewelry were the same as they had been eight years ago; the only reminder that she was a grown woman rather than a confused and misfit teen was her swollen belly, which not even her full-skirted dress could hide.

She looked round the room. Hades certainly had an eye for the details: neither a pillow nor dripping candle was out of place or missing. Cheap fabric swathed the invisible walls behind the circular room bedecked with gaudy knick-knacks and ostentatious furniture. She saw now what she could not perceive as a girl: the room was cheap, rotting and base. As a girl, the adult themes had both fascinated and repulsed her. She'd assumed this was what love in an adult world meant and been confused.

Now, she understood that what Jareth had shown her then was but a cheap, worldly parody of love. It was what the rest of the world understood to be love, whereas what he had offered her in the moment he took her hand had been something far, far different. The couples had danced and flirted, the women coquetted boldly with lustful men, teasing, touching and arousing each other with every slight movement of their alluringly immodest clothing. They all wore masks to hide their true selves from each other—an exchange of bodies instead of souls.

But Jareth, he had removed his mask, offering his true self to her alone despite the allure of seductive women surrounding him. They alone had moved and danced uncovered, displaying their souls to each other and facing the truth of who they were. He had been the haven of true love in the mass of erotic lust.

All this passed through her mind in the brief second it took to recognize where Hades had led her. _What is his game by bringing me here? Why here? Of all the places in my memory, why did he choose this room? Is it because this is the moment where I first met the real Jareth, the one who loved me? This is the place where Jareth revealed his true self to me and without words, offered his heart and hand to me. And now, I assume I must unmask him again—find my true love in a room of masked dancers. How hard could it be? All I have to do is look._

And she did, but as she did so, she realized the depth of Hades devious nature. All the men in the room were dressed exactly the same: glittering blue jacket, black leather boots and tight grey breeches. To make matters worse, they all had wild blonde hair and although their faces where hidden beneath skull-shaped horned masks, Sarah was certain they all looked like her husband. This was more than a room of masked dancers, this was a room of counterfeits and her task was to discern which of these Jareths was her true husband.

A nearby Jareth noted her contemplative stare and approached her, offering his hand. She took it, and he led her to the dance floor where she was immediately surrounding with a sea of midnight blue speckled with glittering diamond stars. Her head was spinning and not just from the dance.

Everywhere she looked, she saw Jareth's eyes watching her from the depths of the masks; it was eerie. One pair of mismatched eyes was entrancing, but a hundred? She began to fear that the task was impossible. _How am I supposed to know which one is which? They all look the same. _

Her breath was coming in quick gasps and her heart was beating fast. She felt a small nudge from her child and she paused her twirling movements to listen—a solitary statue in the whirling clouds of fabric and lace. Placing her hands on her stomach, she closed her eyes and shut out the raucous noise of the dance floor.

Her child was communicating love and trust to her. _I know you can do this mamma; you're strong and wise. Things aren't always what they seem._ Sarah's eyes flew open; she knew what to do.

She returned to her partner, re-entering the dance with fervor. She stayed no longer than a moment before leaving his arms and joining another Jareth in the fevered dance. She continued in this manner for several hours, dancing with each Jareth in turn, some for longer periods of time, some shorter. She gazed deeply into each of their eyes and every now and then, she would touch their hair or trace the lines of the mask searchingly, yet each time she would eventually leave them and choose another.

After a time, she chose one with whom she danced far longer than any of the others, their eyes locked as tightly as their hands. After some time, however, she released him and chose another, though she never completely let the former out of her sight.

She touched the new Jareth's hair affectionately and placed a hand on his chest, stopping their movements.

"Jareth," she said. Everything stopped—music, laughter, and dancing died as her tongue retreated from her teeth. Every eye in the room turned to watch the two figures in the center of the dance floor.

"Yes, Sarah," he replied, clasping her waist possessively. He leaned in to kiss her, but she held up a hand to his lips, stopping him just inches from her face.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, "but you are not my husband, Hades. He is." She turned and pointed her finger at the Jareth she had danced with before him—the one she had held the longest of the rest. She left the current Jareth staring wide-eyed after her as she moved gracefully through the crowd to the Jareth she had indicated.

Reaching up, she pulled of his mask to reveal the face of her beloved gazing down at her with love in his eyes. She took his hand and placed it on her stomach, "Feel your child kicking Jareth?" She crooned. "It's because of you. I'm afraid I couldn't have done it without its help. We did it together: a wife searching for her husband and a child, its father. True love cannot be deceived by merely the appearance of it."

Jareth did not reply, but she could see tears in his eyes. Filled with awe and wonder, he felt his child move under his hand in greeting. Sarah laughed. "Our baby is saying hello to its father."

"H-hello," Jareth choked. He looked up at Sarah's face, amazement flooding his handsome features. "Sarah, how did you know it was me?"

"It was easy," she replied. "Once I knew what I was up against. Hades can counterfeit your looks, but he can't counterfeit your love."

She turned to her adversary, who had removed his mask, revealing his true features; the other imposters had disappeared, leaving the three of them alone in the ballroom. "Choosing this room was your mistake, Hades, for this room was the place where Jareth first showed his love to me. It was in his eyes the whole time," she flashed her husband a winning smile. "Amid the lust and desire that pervaded this room, Jareth had only love for me, but you couldn't know that. You saw only a setting that you could twist to your own advantage. You did not see the significance of Jareth, how he stood out from the crowd.

"All these counterfeits looked at me with the same avarice and desire that you have. You mistakenly assumed Jareth perceived me that way in the memory because of how the other characters were interacting with each other. _My_ Jareth does not greedily desire me in order to possess me, as you do. The truth was in his eyes."

"I love my wife, Hades," said Jareth, who approached them to stand beside Sarah, one arm wrapped about her waist. "Something you should consider regarding your own. From what I understand, you loved her once. You were one of the only monogamous Olympians in the histories. I think you should remember why it was you kidnapped her from her family in the first place," he smirked, "and quit trying to steal mine. I saw her first anyway."

Sarah gazed affectionately at her husband; she'd missed his arrogant charm and mischievous ways. She'd even missed his snide comments; all she could think now was how handsome he was, and how wonderful it was to have him back.

"Can we go now?" Jareth quipped. "I'm a bit tired of the décor. The atmosphere of this place is too gloomy, Hades; I think you should do something about that."

Hades was purple and fuming—nearly apoplectic. His jaw was clenched tightly and his golden waves trembled with fury. Without speaking, Hades waved his hand and the three of them were immediately transported away from the mirage and back to the throne room.

In the second it took for them to return, Hades had collected himself. His attractive face was a mask of calm serenity, though Sarah and Jareth could both perceive the subdued anger boiling in his black eyes.

"You're free to leave," Hades pronounced, his voice as even as the two neat rows of white teeth barely visible between his thin lips. "I hope to never have the pleasure of seeing you in my domain again." He bowed his head slightly and waved them away.

Not wanting to press the Lord of the Underworld's patience, Sarah quickly grasped Jareth's hand and the two of them exited the throne room with bated breath—two vengeful pairs of eyes watching their every step. Rancor hung like a pall over the room and it wasn't until the pair stood on the other side of the wrought-iron doors that they could breathe freely again.

"Jareth," Sarah breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself as close as her swollen abdomen would allow. "I've missed you."

Heedless of the watching doorwarden and gloomy Daedalus, Jareth crushed his lips against hers, venting all the bated passion of the past nine months. When the need for air overcame their pent-up desire, Sarah wound her arms around his neck and whispered, "Let's go home."

Jareth nodded, but before Sarah could summon the magic she mistakenly thought flowed from the ring on her thumb, Jareth's eyes widened. "Wait, I have to go get something first. Daedalus," he addressed the morose shade nearby. "Take me to my sleeping quarters."

"Jareth, what's going—" Sarah began.

Jareth interrupted her. "No time to explain. Just take me, you filthy spirit. I'll be right back Sarah, I promise."

With Jareth in tow, the shade called Daedalus zoomed off down the passage and Sarah could do no more than gape after them, mystified.

"Thought you could escape me, did you, Goblin Queen?" An arm snaked around her neck and Sarah could feel the thin, sharp point of a dagger digging into her back just beneath her ribs. "They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and for once, they were correct. You should never have come, Sarah, for you will not leave here alive."

"What do you want from me Persephone?" Sarah asked calmly. She refused to give the jilted queen the satisfaction of seeing her fear. No matter how hard her heart pounded in her chest, she would keep her voice and body tightly in her control. She refused to freeze in fear, trapped like a deer in the headlights of oncoming death.

"What do I want? You should know well enough by now: I want vengeance. Your husband spurned me and my own has betrayed me, all because of you. I want requital for my humiliation. In other words, I want you dead at my feet, your face a mask of horror and pain instead of the wretched assurance and confidence you so easily flaunt before me," Persephone's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "And I want to see the look on Jareth's face when he sees what his rejection cost him; I want him to feel the loss I felt when he shunned my company for another's—to know what it feels like to be bereft and alone. That, my dear sweet Goblin Queen, is what I want from you."

Sarah's mind raced as quickly as her heart, attempting to discover a way, any way, to stall for time until Jareth returned, or Hades came in search of his wife. "Why punish me for something these men have done to you?" She prodded. "Would it not do more justice to them if you were to attack them directly? Why kill me when you can hurt Hades more personally without an intermediary? It is possible that he doesn't feel for me the way you think he does, that he meant merely to taunt me, or punish me, should I fail to conquer his puzzle? It _is_ possible."

"No, it isn't." Persephone laughed humorlessly. "You do not understand my husband at all, Sarah from the Underground. He does not jest about his feelings, nor does he use emotional lies to goad others into action. Had he truly meant to demoralize you, he could have chosen a myriad of ways to do so that did not involve being united to him personally. No, he wanted you, wanted you more desperately than he has wanted anything in millennia. You mean more to him than you could possibly understand.

"But I understand all too well. A very long time ago he wanted me enough to kidnap me from my family. I was in a field picking flowers with my companions when he captured me and dragged me down to this cursed place, tricking me into eating six pomegranate seeds to keep me trapped here for half of every year. He is devious with what he wants and what he wants right now is you, not me—his wife—and I cannot help but hate you for it."

At that moment, Jareth rounded the far corner of the corridor with Daedalus trailing beside him silently—joy and sorrow traveling side by side. Persephone hissed, pulling her arm more tightly about Sarah's neck, the point of the dagger pressed dangerously close to Sarah's spine.

"Don't come any closer, Jareth," she warned, "or I'll kill your beloved wife and the baby she carries."

Jareth halted mid-step his eyes cool, calculating. Yet Sarah perceived what Persephone could not—Jareth was furious. His eyes narrowed and every muscle in his body tensed. Taut as a bowstring and ready as a cobra for the killing strike. It was the same look she'd seen—albeit dimly—when Jareth had rescued her from Junia's clutches and again when Danic had threatened her in their bedchamber. It boded ill for Persephone.

"Leave her alone," Jareth stated coolly, his voice as flat and dangerous as the dagger pointed at Sarah's back.

"Don't tell me what to do, Jareth," Persephone retorted. "You'll do as _I_ say, not the other way around."

Jareth's eyes darkened dangerously, his permanently dilated pupil boiling and flashing like an approaching thunderstorm. Sarah cringed inwardly; though his wife, Jareth's anger still had the ability to frighten her. "Oh will I?" He replied smoothly. He peered down at his fingernails, as if something there had caught his eye. After a moment, however, his gaze returned to his foe, all trace of civility destroyed leaving only dark hatred that flashed like lightning from his cruel eyes.

Sarah felt a shudder of fear pass through her attacker, Persephone had finally realized the strength of her adversary and the mistake she had made in misjudging him.

"Let her go, Persephone," Jareth commanded.

The Underworld Queen faltered, her right arm slipped and the dagger withdrew a few millimeters from Sarah's back. "O-or what? You have no power here, Jareth. Your magic is gone." But even she didn't sound convinced of Jareth's powerlessness.

"That may be so, but that does not mean I am without other means to retaliate," he flashed her a wicked grin, baring his teeth in a snarl of defiance and flexing his fingers significantly.

Persephone's eyes darted from his face to his hands and back again; her resolve was breaking and she knew it. Despite her initial confidence, Jareth frightened her. She had never imagined that anyone could possibly unnerve her more than her husband did, but Jareth succeeded. She had thought him harmless, emasculated because of his magical impotence but she had been wrong. Jareth was fiercely and unfathomably protective of his wife—an unexpected twist of fate. Such a display was completely lacking in her husband so she had not thought to find it in another; now that she had, she could think of nothing more than that she wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

She felt her arm slipping away from Sarah's throat and in that instant, the captive Queen twisted free, knocking the hand holding the dagger away in one swift movement. Jareth rushed to Sarah's side and she collapsed into his arms, breathing heavily and shivering uncontrollably as she allowed her pent up fear to escape its prison.

"Are you all right?" asked Jareth, anxious. "Did she hurt you or the baby? If she did, I swear I'll rip her head—"

"I'm fine, Jareth, really," Sarah replied, calming herself to help assuage his anger. "She only threatened me; there is no lasting harm done."

"So you're fine?" He pressed. "_Both_ of you?"

"Yes, really, I'm fiaaaaaaghhh!" Sarah's statement became a scream and she quickly sank to the floor.

"What as it, are you bleeding? Did she stab you?" Jareth kneeled beside her and began hunting through the folds of her garments in search of whatever wound was causing his wife's distress.

Sarah could not reply immediately; she sat, open mouthed in wordless pain, and hunched over her abdomen, her whole frame taut. After a minute, she relaxed, slumping back into Jareth's waiting arms.

"The…baby…" she wheezed.

"What's wrong?" said Jareth, alarmed.

"Nothing's…wrong…" Sarah replied. "The…baby's coming."

"You mean…"Jareth's jaw went slack and his eyes widened fearfully.

"I'm going…into labor…right noaaaagh!" Another contraction hit her and she doubled over, moaning softly and trying very hard to maintain a consistent breathing pattern. As with the first, the contraction passed after a minute and Sarah was once again able to relax.

"We…have…to…go, Jareth," she whispered hoarsely. "Now. I refuse…to have this child…in hell."

"But how are we supposed to get home?" asked Jareth.

"The same way I got here," said Sarah, holding up her right hand to show Jareth the ring Chronus and Rhea had given her. "Magic."

Sarah closed her eyes and thought hard about where she wanted them to go. _Chronus and Rhea's cottage at the edge of the Underground_, she commanded the unseen magic. "Hold on tight," she croaked.

The next instant, Persephone was standing alone in the corridor. The sound of metal clattering on stone echoed off the iron doors, followed by the soft patter of feet on stone and the mournful wail of heavy weeping.

* * *

"One final push Sarah," Rhea exhorted. "You're almost done."

Sarah moaned and lay back against the pillows, her hair and face drenched in sweat. She and Jareth had arrived at the cottage in time for Sarah's water to break all over the living room floor. Rhea immediately took charge—Jareth was stuttering incoherently, completely useless—and ordered Chronus to carry Sarah into the guest bedroom. A few minutes later, Sarah was safely supported by a mountain of pillows and sucking on ice chips, that is, when she wasn't moaning and breathing her way through her contractions, which were coming at a faster pace now that she wasn't under duress.

It had been roughly eight hours since they'd arrived from the Underworld and Jareth was an emotional wreck; he fretted and worried over her, mopping the sweat from her brow and offering small bursts of encouragement when he could manage to speak. For the most part, however, he didn't know what to say and so simply held her hand through her contractions, giving her permission to squeeze as hard as she liked, which she did.

Chronus made himself scarce; two men in a delivery room was one too many. Rhea coached Sarah the whole way, alternately offering gentle encouragement and imperious admonition for Sarah to push harder and not give up. Jareth thought it was taking an awfully long time for the baby to come and Sarah was quickly growing increasingly tired.

"You can't quit now, Sarah," Rhea chided. "You're almost there."

"I…can't…do…it…anymore," Sarah panted. "So…tired."

"Never say the word 'can't,' Sarah," Rhea retorted. "You mean to tell me that you can run the Labyrinth, cross the Underground in nine months, gain immortality and single-handedly confront the Lord of the Underworld—and win—and you can't push this baby out? Come on! _Push!_"

"Okay," said Sarah, filling her heart with fresh resolve. "I'll try one more time."

"That's it! Push!" Rhea cheered.

Sarah screamed loudly as she forced every muscle in her abdomen to push harder than ever before, her entire being focused on birthing her child.

"That's it, come on! The baby's coming! Oh!" Rhea gasped and Sarah heard the forceful wail of her infant child, indignant at being so rudely introduced into the cold air after the warm wetness of its previous abode.

Sarah leaned into the cushion of the pillows, utterly exhausted, while Rhea cut the cord and wrapped the baby loosely in a handmade blanket. "Would you like to meet your baby?" Rhea asked, her face beaming with delight.

Sarah held open her weak arms eagerly, yearning to hold her child more than anything in the world. She unfolded the blanket and gaped in wonder.

"He's beautiful," Sarah sighed, tears springing to her eyes as she beheld the glorious face of her newborn son.

Jareth sat down beside her and reached out a hand to touch his son's head tentatively. "My child…" he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "My…son."

Sarah looked up into her husband's eyes and realized at that moment, she had never been nor could ever be, as happy as she was now. "_Our_ son," she lovingly corrected.

"Yes, indeed," Jareth replied softly. "Our son." He kissed her tenderly, his lips brushing hers as delicately as a butterfly's wings.

"What shall we name him?" asked Sarah. "I never thought about any names; I was too busy." She smiled impishly at Jareth and returned her gaze to the mesmerizing face of her son—she couldn't help but stare at him. He was so beautiful and perfect; though she had only just met him face to face, her heart swelled with love for him.

The sound of her husband's voice brought her back to the present, "Galen."

"Hmmm?" Sarah murmured, her eyes still intent on her son's sleeping face.

"I said, let's name him Galen," Jareth repeated. "It means healer."

"Healer?" Sarah echoed questioningly.

"It's a long story and I'll explain it to you later. For now, I think you both need some rest." Jareth kissed his wife and son on the forehead and made to leave the room. Rhea had already left to give them privacy and Jareth thought it best to allow his wife time alone to recuperate.

"Don't leave, Jareth," Sarah called after him. "Please. Will you stay with me?" She blushed.

"I'll be here when you wake up, Sarah," Jareth reassured her. "I promise. You're not going to lose me again. But if it makes you feel better, I'll lay down with you while you fall asleep."

"I'd like that," Sarah replied. "I'd like that very much."

**

* * *

WHEW! That was a doozy! But it's not over yet, folks! There's still baddies to confront (Ammon, Danic) and the world to save from magical destruction (and Toby has to make a final appearance, regardless of his decision, which you will find out soon). Our heroes toils are far from over, so stay tuned for the stunning resolution! Leave a review and I'll get back to you all as soon as time will allow me. For now, I'm off to bed. **


	33. Return of the King and Queen

**I need to quit making promises about how quickly I will write a new chapter. Though I have the best intentions, inevitably something will come up during my week to make it impossible for me to fulfill my promises and then I'm left disappointing you all. *Sigh* I hope you can eventually forgive me :D**

* * *

Jareth prowled the length of Chronus and Rhea's living room like a caged lion.

"Jareth, will you sit down please?" Sarah implored quietly. "You're going to wake the baby. And you're making _me_ nervous. Please!"

Jareth did not acknowledge her but instead continued pacing the length of the room with quick, measured strides. His well-muscled legs were in need of the exercise as much as his mind, which reeling with the information Sarah, Chronus and Rhea had given him in the day following Galen's birth. Sarah had only been able to tell him what she'd heard before leaving the kingdoms—namely, that Ammon was attempting take over not simply the Court, but the entire Underground. Chronus and Rhea filled in the details.

_Ammon was planning to kidnap, torture and possibly kill Sarah. When he found out Sarah had left to find a way to rescue me, he wasted no time in sending that scumbag he calls a son to supplant me. Danic forcibly seized control of my kingdom and bullied the goblins into listening to him with force and threats. They were too stupid to call his bluffs and too weak to resist or fight back. _

_Since Danic's takeover, no one knows what has happened within the Goblin Kingdom. Mother apparently sent Hogsbrain—no, that's not right, Hedgewart? Haggis? Higgle? Hoggle. That's it—she sent Hoggle and the rest of Sarah's ragtag band of bosom companions off to do something about it. But what could a dwarf, a fox, a giant hairy beast and a centaur do against Danic? He's a fiend. _

He paused, that beastly, inconvenient thing called his memory reminded him of the part they played in Sarah's triumph eight years ago. _ They helped Sarah defeat the Labyrinth I suppose they _might_ be able to help out, that is if they haven't been caught and tortured yet. If they have I assume it shall fall to me to create and enact a plan to rescue them. Sarah seems attached to the little buggers. Although…they're not _all_ bad…I suppose. Once you get past the smell. _

He shook his head, attempting to clear the fog overshadowing his thoughts; it refused to lift. Without goblins, he was forced to find a less replaceable outlet for his pent-up emotion. He kicked a chair in frustration and the sound of wood splintering awoke his infant son sleeping in Sarah's arms. Grumpy at being so rudely awakened, Galen wailed indignantly while his mother tried earnestly to calm him.

"I told you that you would wake him up," Sarah complained. Her hormones were still completely out of balance from her pregnancy, labor and delivery, making it impossible for her to react calmly to Jareth's obvious agitation. "Now will you _please_ sit down? Oh wait, you broke your chair."

"Do _you_ have any ideas?" Jareth retorted. "I've been in hell for nine months, Sarah. I come home to my wife giving birth to a baby I never knew existed until hours beforehand and my kingdom overtaken by one of my family's worst enemies. My brain is overloaded and I can't think!" Jareth kicked the already decrepit chair and the final remaining parts shattered into splinters at his feet.

Remorseful, Sarah stood quickly and handed Galen off to Rhea; she placed her hands on either side of his face. "Jareth, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have reacted like that. Will you forgive me?"

Jareth shrugged and nodded slightly, "I understand."

"What can I do to help you?" asked Sarah.

"I just…need time to think. There's so much to do…first Ammon, then Apollo tells me about the magic breaking apart and now Danic has overthrown my kingdom, _my_ kingdom dammit! What does the world have against me anyway?"

Jareth held his anger in admirably, clenching his fists at his side instead of lashing out against another unfortunate piece of furniture.

"Wait a minute—Apollo?" Chronus interrupted, his face grave. "What is all this about magic breaking apart?"

Jareth sighed and unclenched his fists. "When I was in the Underworld, I met Apollo. Hermes introduced us—it's a long story," he waved away Sarah's questioning expression. "I'll explain that part later."

"Can you at least do me the honor of explaining who these people are exactly?" said Sarah, slightly peeved. "I've read Greek myths, but you can't seriously be telling me that you met _the_ Hermes and Apollo—god of wisdom and the official messenger of the Olympians? What are they doing in Hell?"

Jareth nodded, "The one and only. Both of them. They and the entire race of Olympians live there now, a fitting judgment for their corrupt ways in the Aboveground."

"Interesting," said Chronus, rubbing his chin contemplatively. "What did they say to you? I'm very much interested in what my bastard grandson Apollo had to say in particular. When it comes to Hermes, you never could trust him completely; he had a way of twisting fact and events to serve his personal ends."

"You're not very far from the truth; Hermes was mostly interested in using me to find a way back out of the Underworld and into a place of influence and power," Jareth replied.

"He always was a bit of a rascal," Rhea commented, smiling. "A bit like you, Jareth. I think you both get that from my husband."

Chronus grinned impishly. Jareth continued, "Apollo was far less self-interested—he's more contemplative, intellectual, used to sitting on his back and letting others do his dirty work—the kind of person I'd like to see run my Labyrinth." His face twisted into a feral grin that Sarah had seen more than once as he had verbally tormented her during both her stays in the Underground.

"He had much more of Rhea in him," Chronus jibed. "Had the gift of foresight, too, if I remember rightly."

"He did," Jareth agreed, unable to keep sarcasm from creeping into his tone. "And he used his considerable talents to inform me that I was supposed to save the universe."

"Lacking subtlety," said Rhea, shaking her head. "Always a sign of a young immortal with too much talent on his hands and not enough training. With Zeus in charge, there's no way Apollo ever got the kind of education he needed to understand and harness his abilities."

"Now's not the time, darling," Chronus replied. "There are more important things to worry about than failed parenting and magical training."

Rhea grumbled under her breath about ignorant youth and negligent parents, handing Galen back to his mother for her to nurse him. "Of course I don't mean you, Sarah. You'll be just fine, I promise."

"What else did he say?" Sarah prodded, snatching up a blanket for modesty's sake as she sat back down in the handcrafted rocking chair Chronus had provided.

Jareth turned to face his ancestors, his face grave. "Apparently, when your son banished you and the rest of the family to this lovely place we call home, he disrupted the magical bonds holding the world together. In some mystical way, the Aboveground, Underground and Underworld are all connected by magic and when one is separated from the others, the entire structure starts to disintegrate. Because of Zeus' curse and banishment, it seems the world is flying apart at the seams while we speak," Jareth smirked and his eyes gleamed mischievously. "It was quite a heartwarming conversation."

Sarah's eyes were wide and the gentle rocking motion of the chair did nothing to soothe her already frayed nerves. The world was ending. Just when she thought she and Jareth were finally going to be able to settle down—after taking back their kingdom of course—they were confronted with an even more insurmountable task: saving the world.

She felt a soft, distant nudge on her mind and, looking down, she saw her son's blue, mismatched eyes gazing up at her inquisitively. She touched his face tenderly with one finger, and he grasped it with his fist—his tiny fingers barely able to wrap around it.

_You have your father's eyes,_ she thought.

_Everything okay, mamma?_ She heard him reply. Sarah gasped and three pairs of eyes turned toward her.

"What is it?" asked Jareth fearfully. "Is the baby all right?"

"He…he's…talking to me!" Sarah answered hoarsely.

Rhea chuckled, "Immortal babies will do that. Didn't anyone warn you he could communicate with you?"

"Felicia mentioned he would be able to contact me while I was pregnant, but I had no idea he would be able to do so after he was born!"

"Why would his ability to speak to you change after birth? When he was only half-immortal, his connection to you would have been weaker, and had you given birth to him then, he wouldn't have been able to have a strong link with you after birth. However, now that you are both immortals, he can fully communicate with you outside of the womb, though it will require physical contact." Rhea beamed radiantly at Sarah. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Sarah nodded silently and kissed her son's fingertips. _Your Daddy and I have a lot of work to do before we can be safe again. But don't worry; we'll protect you._

_I know mamma. Daddy will be okay, he's strong. And so are you. You'll be okay._ Galen blinked slowly. _I'm hungry._

Sarah chuckled and complied with her son's request. Once he was happily settled into nursing, Sarah raised her head to her husband, "What are we going to do Jareth?"

"I think we need to begin with my parents," he replied, self-confidence and mischievous swagger returned. "They'll know the situation with the Goblin Kingdom and the rest of the Underground. And we'll need to find Phainon and Opalia, wherever they might be hiding. We will need to restore order to the Court after Ammon is defeated and Phainon is the only way to do that."

"Ah," Chronus interjected. "That we can help you with; not even your parents know where the High Arbiter and his consort are, but we do, thanks to my lovely wife here." Chronus placed an arm around Rhea's waist and drew her close.

Rhea tapped him lightly on the nose and moved away. "Phainon and Opalia are hiding out in the forests of the dryad kingdom, where their daughter is Queen."

"You're certain Ammon hasn't found them in such an obvious hiding place?"

"Sometimes, the most likely hiding spot is least likely to be searched," Chronus remarked sagely. "Even the greatest folly may be but great wisdom in disguise."

"Thank you Wiseman," said Sarah sarcastically, recognizing Chronus' philosophizing immediately. "You're as cryptic as ever. So tell me, Rhea, did you have the honor of being the talking hat or is the art of self-mockery one of Chronus' hidden talents?"

Rhea bit back a laugh and Chronus rolled his eyes. The three of them burst into laughter as Jareth watched, his face a mask of confusion. "I'll explain to you later," Sarah promised, much to Jareth's increased annoyance.

* * *

The return to Jareth's parents and their safe haven was uneventful, accomplished with a mere wave of Jareth's elegant hand and a spinning crystal orb. Though Chronus and Rhea had informed Sarah of her own magical abilities—and they had tricked her into using them by means of offering her the golden ring—she remained uncertain as to the scope, strength and skill of her talents.

"Using magic under duress, and ignorance," she had remarked pointedly to her hosts, "is not the same as summoning it out of the blue. I'm not sure I'm ready to do this yet and I'm still not convinced that the power was entirely mine. Maybe I drew on some latent magic in the ring you gave me rather than my own. No, I'm quite content to let Jareth handle all of the magical requirements; he enjoys it."

Her hosts had insisted her that the ring had no special properties of its own, but Sarah had refused to admit that she had been granted power over magic in the course of being granted eternal life. Her emotional and mental fatigue couldn't cope with the new knowledge. So in the end, she had her way and Jareth was given full responsibility over their transportation.

With sorrowful goodbyes and promises to visit when the dust had settled in the Underground, Jareth and Sarah took their leave of the former King and Queen of heaven. With one flex of his strong hands, Jareth whisked them away without hesitation and more than a little glee—he was thrilled, nay ecstatic, to have regained his power—a child in a toy shop with no rules and no one to gainsay him.

Their arrival at the haven caused great rejoicing. Everyone wanted to touch Jareth, ask him questions about Erebus and his time there, and pester him for details regarding his plans for retaking the Underground. The women cooed and giggled over Galen, pinching his cheeks and remarking on how much he looked like his father—except of course, for the thick, dark brown fuzz on his head.

However, sooner than they would have liked their reminiscences were cut short by the urgent need to retake the Goblin Kingdom. Surprise was of the essence and Jareth needed as much recognizance as the inhabitants of the haven could supply. Most knew little beyond the earthen walls of their abode, choosing to focus on building a life for themselves in the mountains should an attempt to flout Ammon and his son fail. Felicia and Makarios, however, supplied valuable information regarding both the state of the Kingdoms more generally and Jareth's in particular.

"Chaos and fear are the order of the day," Makarios informed them. "Once Danic took over your throne, he immediately turned to the next available position to add to his own: Kyran's. With two thrones lacking leadership and his father ruling the Court of the Wise, Danic maneuvered himself into gaining control over them both without much of a fight from the others—they're too afraid of his cruelty and Ammon's authority to fight back."

"The word is," Felicia added somberly, "Danic is secretly amassing an army to overtake the rest of the Kingdoms by force. Only rumors at this point, but you would know more than anyone how much truth rumors contain."

Jareth could barely contain his outrage and Sarah had to forcibly restrain him from barging into his own throne room unannounced, flinging magic left and right. In the end, the two of them agreed that an approach from the Labyrinth would be the least expected route and therefore, the most effective if they were to take Danic and his forces by surprise. They had hopes of finding Hoggle and the others near the Labyrinth—it was a perfect hideout since Danic did not know the intricacies of the maze as well as Jareth, Sarah and Hoggle, if he knew them at all.

Taking Sarah's hand, Jareth summoned a crystal and the royal family vanished hand in hand into their future, their infant son nestled safely in a sling on his mother's back. Prayers and hope followed in their wake as the hidden castaways of Ammon's coup drew strength and courage from Jareth's safe return.

* * *

"Do you think anyone is inside?" Sarah asked Jareth surreptitiously. They stood on the brow of a weather-beaten hill, surrounded by the searching fingers of dead trees reaching out to capture them. It was the same hill from which Sarah had first glimpsed the Labyrinth a lifetime before.

"Honestly? No. Danic wouldn't dare brave the Labyrinth; no one here would," Jareth grinned. "Only you."

Sarah smiled faintly as memories of her former time in the Labyrinth resurfaced. She recalled each event, each strange new creature with perfect clarity. The twists and turns of the maze below them hadn't changed in almost eight years—at least outwardly. Sarah knew that within the Labyrinth, the walls shifted as easily as shadows in the afternoon sun. Her heart thrilled to be nearing the puzzle that had brought her such joy, even in the face of accompanying sorrow.

Despite Sarah's excitement, they approached their destination with some trepidation, though neither of them was willing to give voice to their fears. For all Jareth's self-confidence, there was a chance—however slim—that Danic had breeched the maze and placed it under his dominion. Should armed guards greet their entrance into the Labyrinth, all hope of taking the usurper by surprise would be ended.

Jareth summoned his magic and opened the outer gate—neither one daring to breathe.

Nothing. No guards, no ringing chimes of alarm, no traps or magical bombardments—it was the same as it ever had been: empty, vast and covered with flecks of a glittery substance Sarah had never bothered to find the name for.

"Well," she turned to her husband, "which way do we go, Goblin King?"

"This way," said Jareth, pointing to their right.

"I hope you know where you're going," Sarah teased. "I've gotten lost in here once before and I know that men don't like to stop and ask for directions."

Jareth looked askance at his beautiful wife, replying, "But at least _I _wouldn't throw a temper tantrum if I was lost. Although…you look quite pretty when you scream, you know; I remember enjoying that part of your trip immensely."

Sarah rolled her eyes and kept walking, ignoring her husband's jibe. "I'm not the headstrong, emotional teenager I was then, Jareth. I've changed quite a bit."

"I know that," he replied gently, catching up to her and grasping her hand, causing her to halt mid-stride. "And I love you even more for it. I loved you then with more passion than I knew I could feel and it only grows daily," his eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. "Besides, if you hadn't won, I never would have married you and then I would have missed out on the opportunity of tormenting you for eternity."

He leaned in closely, backing Sarah up against the wall as he had done in the underground tunnels eight years ago. Sarah's heart began to pound as his face drew closer—even now he could make her heart race faster than any man ever had.

Jareth stopped, his face mere millimeters from Sarah's, "How do you like my Labyrinth now, Goblin Queen? Is it everything you've expected?"

"All that and more, Goblin King," Sarah purred, tracing his lips with one finger. "Still a piece of cake, though."

Jareth growled playfully and placed his palms flat on the wall on either side of her face. Sarah stared in mock terror, yet curled her lips into a seductive smile. "What, no slice for me this time? I'd love to see what you'd serve up for me next."

Jareth leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I have a slice for you, believe me, but you'll just have to wait for it. There's a baby present."

Galen, who had slept through his parent's interchange, awoke suddenly and began to wail his distaste for being pinned between his mother's back and the hard, cold wall of the Labyrinth.

"Now look what you've done," Sarah mocked. "You've made our son cry. Shame on you."

"Forget about the baby," Jareth parried. "If he's anything like his father, he's probably just disgruntled at being imprisoned in great swaths of fabric."

"You think he'd prefer scandalously tight breeches and chest-baring shirts?" Sarah retorted. "I don't think they'd fit over his diapers."

"That doesn't mean he's not partial to my style of dress," answered Jareth with a smirk.

But before Sarah could reply, the sound of a friendly greeting interrupted their conversation.

" 'Ello!" The new voice chimed happily.

Jareth shook his head to the left and right, searching for enemies but Sarah immediately looked to the bottom of the wall, finding a well-loved face amid the grey stone.

"Jack!" She exclaimed upon seeing the familiar blue tufts of hair and red scarf that clearly identified the speaker as her friend the worm.

"Sarah!" he shouted, excitement lighting up his yellow face and sending his hair tufts quivering. "I must go tell the missus you're 'ere! Come along, come along, I'll tell Fran to put the tea on!" The blue worm turned to re-enter his home.

"Wait," said Sarah, halting her little friend in his tracks. "We can't really stay."

"We?" Jack parroted, twisting his head to better see her companion.

"Yes, Jareth and I," Sarah answered. "And the baby."

"Baby?!" Jack shouted in surprise. "You had a baby? Oh, Fran will be absolutely delighted to hear that; she loves the little ones. Wait here and I'll fetch her! Don't you move a muscle until we get back." And before Sarah could gainsay him, the worm wriggled back into his hole muttering about babies and Goblin Kings the entire way.

Sarah used the reprieve to explain her relationship to the worms to Jareth, who merely shook his head amusedly in response. "I never knew I had such friendly worms to grace the walls of my Labyrinth. I suppose it would only be polite to kneel down so that I can truly meet them."

Jack returned in a few moments, Fran in tow and they were greeted by the faces of Jareth, Sarah and Galen hovering at eye level to the ledge outside their abode.

Fran oohed and aahed delightedly, proclaiming the boy both 'lovely' and 'a handsome young man.' Jack beamed at Sarah, winking suggestively at her and Jareth.

"I must say," he finally said when he could withhold his opinions no longer. "I'm not surprised you two settled down together. As I told Fran when you visited last, Sarah, the next time we saw you, you'd be queen of the Labyrinth."

"That's right, love," said Fran. "You did tell me that. I didn't quite believe him, mind. I figured you were still fearful of his majesty or hated him for what he'd put you through, no offence your highness."

"None taken," Jareth replied jovially. "I thought the same thing! For my sake, I'm glad we both were wrong." He and Sarah shared a moment of silence together as the worms looked on approvingly.

Jareth finally spoke. "I'm sorry to cut our time short, Sarah, but we can't linger here. As we speak Danic no doubt hunting for a way to control my Labyrinth as well as my kingdom and we mustn't forget the army he's amassing to take over the rest of the land."

"Oh, now what does that remind me of?" Jack interjected.

"Didn't you speak to some nice lads a few days ago about the new king?" Fran prodded.

"Yes! The very thing. You're such a treasure," Jack nuzzled his wife affectionately before returning his attention to Sarah and Jareth. "A day ago, we met with a strange looking bunch of lads running down the corridor. They paused for a breather right where you stand and I chatted them up about what they were doing in this part of the Labyrinth and where they were going, as they seemed in such a rush.

"What must 'uv been the leader—a short, ruddy looking bloke with big eyes and a bag of trinkets hanging from his belt—brushed me off, but the centaur with him—nice looking fellow, energetic as the sun itself—kneeled politely and asked whose side I was on. I replied that I'm on nobody's side, I'm just a worm," he winked at Sarah, who smiled back. "The centaur then told us that they were on the run from the new king because they were trying to stir up rebellion among the goblins. He said they expected your return, your highness, and wanted to keep the goblins from being bullied into following the new king's orders.

"I suppose they got into a scrap or two with the new fellow because they said they were looking for a place to lay low for a while because he was looking for them. The leader grumbled a lot about giving away secrets to worms, but I didn't mind. I'm used to being overlooked. Sarah's the only one who's ever paid me any mind.

"One 'uv the other blokes, a fox riding a dog of all the strange things, spoke up at that point. He said quite eloquently they were going to the Aboveground to hide with an old friend until it was safe for them to return. A big hairy orange bloke with horns bellowed a name that I didn't quite catch. Tony? Tory?"

"Toby," Sarah stated.

"That's it!" Jack concurred. "How did you know?"

"He's my brother," Sarah explained. "He was the one I came to rescue eight years ago. I think you may have met him when he came after me the last time I was here."

"Ah, the adventurous little boy with brown hair!" said Fran. "He blew right past our house when he came through. A lively little chap if I remember rightly."

Jareth grinned at the echo of his own assessment of the child. "Well now, that's interesting," he said. "Thank you for your help, and I'll be certain to thank you appropriately for your services when I get the chance. I'm very sorry to have overlooked you all these years."

"No need for that, now," Fran said, her yellow cheeks tinged with pink. "We've enough thanks just knowin' we've helped out our old and dear friend Sarah."

"Thank you again, Fran, Jack." Sarah said warmly. "You're the best worms a girl could ever have as friends."

"Sarah," Jareth whispered, his hand on her arm. "We really must be going if we're going to make a visit to the Aboveground to retrieve your friends without Danic finding out that we've been here."

"Come back later and we'll have some tea and a chat," Fran encouraged. "I'd love to spend more time with the wee one."

Sarah agreed to visit as soon as events had calmed down and after a final farewell, Jareth summoned another crystal to carry them to the Aboveground.

* * *

The first sight to greet Sarah's vision when she, Jareth and Galen appeared in her old bedroom was Toby's fretful expression and her own image reflected in her old vanity mirror. Toby looked up and when his eyes met hers, they immediately grew as round as saucers.

"Sarah!" he screamed, heedless of his parents standing in the downstairs foyer. "Jareth! You're all right! Oh, wow! What happened? Are you guys okay? How did you get here and how did you get back from being banished Jareth? Sarah, you look different…" His eyes grew rounder—now the size of dinner plates—as Sarah turned and he caught a glimpse of the sleeping Galen on her back. His jaw dropped, followed by the sound of four other jaws dropping simultaneously.

All her friends began talking at once. Hoggle babbled incoherently at the top of his lungs, though his voice was immediately drowned out by Ludo's bellowing, Sir Didymus' excited jabber and Ambrosius' feverish barking. In the hullabaloo, no one noticed the sound of approaching footsteps on the stairs.

Karen's ear-piercing shriek was heard above the din and the Undergrounders immediately collapsed into a confused, and anxious, silence.

"Sarah," Robert wheezed, his manner becoming increasingly agitated as he stared at the strange creatures surrounding his son and daughter.

Karen stood gaping in the doorway, unable to speak. Suddenly, she found her voice and a torrent of questions rushed out. "Where have you been? What are you doing here? How did you get into Toby's room? Who is this man with you? Oh my God, is that a baby on your back?"

Sarah remained outwardly calm despite her roiling emotions. "Dad, Karen, this is my husband Jareth and my son, Galen." Jareth bowed; Galen remained asleep.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Williams," said Jareth, oozing charm and elegance. "However, I regret to inform you that we cannot stay for long. There is a war going on in my kingdom and we must return as soon as possible if we are to defeat my enemies."

"I promise we'll come back and explain everything," said Sarah. She moved to stand in front of her father and stepmother, one hand placed lightly on Toby's head.

"Can I come?" Toby asked excitedly, wrapping his arms around Sarah's waist and looking up at her with puppy dog eyes. "_Please?_"

Jareth and Sarah said "Of course" at the same time as Karen and Robert voiced their disapproval vehemently.

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Williams," Jareth reproved politely," but we may have need of your son in this venture. He has been to my kingdom before and has shown great courage and valor in battle as well as great wit and intelligence in solving puzzles. We may need not only his heart but also his help. I must overrule your disapprobation."

"We'll bring him home safely," Sarah promised, a gentle smile on her beautiful face as she reassured Toby's conflicted parents.

Toby, Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus burst into loud cheering and Sarah, suddenly emotional, flung her arms around her father's neck. "I love you, daddy. I've missed you." She pulled back and she could see the tears in his eyes as she withdrew to her husband's side. Toby waved enthusiastically and without another word, the entire entourage disappeared.

"I…I can't believe it," Karen sobbed. "They took Toby. And we don't know where they went or how to get him back. What if something happens to him, Robert? What if we never get Toby or Sarah back at all? We know nothing about this 'Jareth' person Sarah married. What if this is all a ploy to destroy our family?"

Robert ignored his wife's frantic pleading. "How did they appear and disappear like that?" he said, his voice filled with awe. "And did he say _'kingdom'_?"

**

* * *

Thanks for reading, folks and thanks for your continued patience as I fail to keep up with my deadlines ;) You're awesome. Stay tuned for the exciting finale!**


	34. The Final Showdown, Part 1

**Sorry it took so long everyone; this has been a rough week in a lot of ways. Also, it looks like my one chapter just became two. Jareth and Sarah still have Ammon, the Court and the magical issues to deal with. I hope to get the final few chapters out before the end of the weekend, but I won't promise anything. Happy reading! **

* * *

"Do you see anything?" Sarah whispered. She crouched close behind Hoggle, doing her best to stay both hidden and quiet while her dwarf friend checked the corridor for guards.

"Why dost thou speak in hushed tone?" Sir Didymus shouted in Sarah's ear. "Are we not in the lair of our enemies, our swords drawn to engage them in battle?"

"Yes, but—" Sarah answered.

"Then we ought to charge ahead boldly, not cower in doorways like mice, my lady," the fox continued, his whiskers twitching and tail thrashing wildly, "do you doubt my skill?"

"Didymus," said Sarah kindly. "No one here could possibly doubt your bravery or skill in battle." She smiled benignly and kissed his forehead. "We don't want to give away our plan to our enemies just yet, which means that we all need to remain as quiet as possible. I know you don't like it Sir Didymus, but I'm asking you to trust me, again."

"I would trust you with my life, my lady," replied the stalwart knight. "I shall endeavor to keep my mouth and steed restrained. Dost thou hear me, Ambrosius? We must remain silent as the grave!" The shaggy sheep dog he used as a mount whined sharply and cowered against the wall behind Sarah, fearful as always of any brutal confrontation.

Sarah adjusted the cloth sling holding her baby against her back; Galen shuffled against her slightly, his head resting between her shoulder blades. She felt a slight nudge and she smiled, her son had given his vote of confidence.

Sarah surveyed her companions with grim determination. Hoggle was anxious and fearful—as per his usual—yet attempting to hide it beneath a veneer of bluster and impatience. Sir Didymus' enthusiasm quelled, he crouched stealthily beside Hoggle and though he was silent, the white feather in his cap stood confidently in his blue cap. Ambrosius lingered behind the others, his tail just visible beyond the orange furred bulk of Ludo.

She wished her brother's bright face were among those gathered round her, but Jareth had commandeered the youth for his own endeavors elsewhere in the castle—not the least of which was the fact that Jareth had no desire to corral the goblins by himself. Moreover, Jareth had made it perfectly clear that Toby had a special part to play in the impending battle, one that he could only accomplish at Jareth's side. Jareth didn't tell her what it was—typical reclusive male—so she was left to guess and carry on with her own mission: infiltrating the castle by the backdoor.

"Let's go over this one more time," she said to her compatriots. "For my sake," she added when Hoggle rolled his eyes.

"We sneak in, take that traitor who calls himself a king by surprise and get out, simple as that," the dwarf replied, his manner as short as his stature.

"Succinct as always, Hoggle," Sarah teased. "But humor me."

"Jareth," Hoggle said with barely concealed spite, "wants us to sneak behind the throne room using one of the hidden passages. We'll get into position at the 'exit hatch' as I like to call it—the passage leading from behind the throne to a small door outside the palace—and when Jareth confronts Danic, we'll swarm in from behind to keep him from escaping. There, you happy?"

"Very," she answered. "However, what you and Jareth have neglected to tell me is how and where exactly we are supposed to get _into_ the 'exit hatch.' Is there a third way in and out that neither of you have told me about?"

"Weeeellll…"Hoggle's eyes shifted and he fingered his jewel pouch nervously.

"Hoggle," Sarah warned. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nuthin," he mumbled.

"Come now, brother Hoggle," Sir Didymus urged in a hushed voice. "What dost thou hide from our fair lady Sarah? Should not the whole course of our noble quest be disclosed? A knight always upholds the truth!"

Ludo opened his mouth to interject but Sarah hushed him—the beast was incapable of anything less a bellowing roar and they _were_ trying to remain undiscovered.

Hoggle's face grew red and he mumbled into his leather vest; he tried to bluster his way out of speaking to Sarah, but a stern glance from her—coupled with a well aimed, if playful, lunge toward her friend's jewel bag—and he was suddenly seized by a fit of communication.

"Well, you see, there is a way into the passage from the 'outside' if want to call it that," Hoggle explained hurriedly. "But ya kinda have to use, you know, magic to get in."

"Magic? But none of us have any ma…" Sarah trailed off. Light dawned behind her jade eyes. "He did this to me on purpose." She whispered. "He's trying to force me to use magic."

"It wasn't my idea, I swear!" Hoggle protested. He fell on his knees in front of Sarah, his hands clasped for forgiveness. "Please, Sarah, you gotta believe me, but…Jareth still scares me and he told me I had to do it or he'd send me to The Eternal Stench. But I swear I only did it fer your sake, not because I'm scared of him."

Irked at her husband's trickery, Sarah forced herself to remain calm. There had to be a good reason for Jareth to believe so strongly in skills she had yet to practice; she had to trust his judgment, even if he didn't deserve her trust at the moment.

"Best be on the move then, Hoggle," she replied, her voice staid, objective. "You'll have to fill me in on what I'm supposed to do when we get there—no time like the present to learn what magical skills I have, hopefully, acquired."

"Does that mean yer gonna do it?" asked Hoggle, uncertainly.

"Yes," Sarah answered, a enigmatic smile playing across her face. "Jareth will have to answer for it later, though, make no mistake. I may be married to him, but that doesn't mean he won't suffer."

"S-s-suffer?" Hoggle stuttered.

"I have my ways," smirked Sarah, her smile reminding Hoggle of none other than the King himself.

"My lady," Sir Didymus whispered hoarsely. "Do we intend to stay at this juncture indefinitely or shall we carry on with our quest, post haste?"

"You're right, Didymus, we should move on. Let's go everyone," Sarah waved her hand at Hoggle and he peeked once more around the corner, then hurried them forward down the left hand corridor.

"Tally ho!" Sir Didymus cheered. With a wave of his red-brown tail, Sir Didymus rushed forward, brandishing his spear wildly and only belatedly remembering to hush his voice when Hoggle and Ludo shot him irritated glances.

A few turns and a close call with a snoring guard later and Sarah, Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus and his canine mount stood sheltered in an alcove near the heart of the castle—a dead end.

"Where, door?" Ludo rumbled as quietly as he could.

"Hast thou led us here only to cower in fear, my fine fellow?" Sir Didymus queried angrily. "I have called thee my brother, dost thy cowardice run so deep so as to lead us into a hole like blind rabbits?"

"Well, I never!" Hoggle retorted indignantly. "I told ya I'd bring ya to the door and I did! It's in here." He gestured expansively to the bare walls surrounding them on all but one side.

"Do I need to ask the right question to get it to open?" asked Sarah, examining a nearby crack in the stonework for a way to prize it open. "Or do I just bombard my way in?"

Hoggle shrugged noncommittally, "Magic really isn't my territory. I just brought you where I was told."

"Hmmm," Sarah surveyed the walls but found no visual clues to indicate a hidden door. She asked several whispered questions but received no response. She even tried, "Open Sesame." Her friends stared at her strangely and she replied that it was an Aboveground joke.

After ten minutes of frustrated searching, Sarah tried another tack: think like Jareth_. How would he protect such an important corridor from being infiltrated by enemies? What kind of magic would he use to seal it and what would be required to open it? _Her thoughts trailed through what she knew of her husband's magical methods. _Jareth is a master of illusion, a spinner of fine webs of deception and trickery. Nothing is what it seems._

Abruptly, her mind fixed on an idea that seemed at once too simple and entirely plausible. "Which direction is the throne room from here, Hoggle?"

"Roughly that way," said the confused dwarf as he pointed to the wall directly behind her. "Why?"

"I think I know what to do," Sarah replied. She turned to face the side Hoggle had indicated, drew a deep breath and walked forward at a quick pace, her eyes wide open and her head erect. The gap between her and the seemingly solid wall in front of her closed swiftly. _Three feet, two feet, ten inches, four inches, two inches. _

She unconsciously braced for impact with the wall, but it never came. Instead, she felt a fine mist of fabric slither over her body—like the feel of a curtain blown into your face by a warm breeze while standing at an open window. The sensation sent chills up her spine and the vision of stones rippling under her touch fascinated her.

She heard her friends muffled cries of concern and she turned to reassure them of her safety and success, however, her eyes could not believe what she saw. True to the sensations she had recently experienced, it was as if she perceived them through a thin, rock-colored veil. She could see two pairs of tiny fists and one large one pounding on the fabric, but it stood as immobile as the stone it mimicked. Curious, she pulled the barrier aside like a shower curtain only to be greeted by her friends gaping mouths and slack jaws. Ludo shivered uneasily and Ambrosius ducked behind Sir Didymus, whining piteously.

"My lady, how art thou able to walk through solid walls?" Sir Didymus exclaimed.

"I wanna know how you were able to peel it back like that," said Hoggle. "It's like it were only a piece of cloth!"

"Magic," Sarah grinned. "Now come on you guys. Quit gawking and get moving, we haven't got all day."

The secret passage was narrow and dim. Ludo was barely able to squeeze himself into it and he kept banging his head on the low ceiling. Feeling more confident, Sarah attempted to summon a light to guide them and managed to procure an orb of throbbing emerald light that she held aloft in one hand to guide their passage. When the end of the tunnel came into view, Sarah extinguished the orb and the group continued, on tiptoe, toward a rectangle of soft light filtering through from the throne room. The exit was covered with the same semi-sheer film of stonework magic that had barricaded the entrance and Sarah was confident that Danic would not find them until Jareth was ready for their assistance.

As they approached the stonework curtain, Sarah could hear voices. Jareth must have already begun his part of the plan: infiltrating the throne room directly. Motioning for her friends to stay behind her, she approached the curtain alone and gazed at the unfolding scene below her.

The hidden passage lay behind and to the left of the throne, making it impossible for Sarah to see the man occupying it except for the tips of his black leather boots—though she could imagine his deathly pale face and hard features quite well on her own. She did, however, have a perfect view of the central space, which was occupied at the moment by a strange duo with which Danic was having a heated conversation.

At the forefront stood a small boy, roughly Toby's height, with wild black hair, green, mismatched eyes and an arrogant bearing. Behind him stooped an old, soiled beggar with a long, bird-like beak and wide-brimmed tricorn hat. He looked strangely familiar, but Sarah couldn't place him. At the moment, her attention was fixed on the small boy, who was waving away Danic's unheard comments with familiar, Jareth-like disdain.

"I really don't care if you believe me or not, Danon," the boy said airily.

"Danic," the usurper corrected angrily.

"You see, I _am_ Jareth's son and you _will_ give me back my throne and my kingdom, immediately." The boy crossed his arms impatiently and stared down the would-be king.

_Jareth's son?_ The statement echoed preposterously in Sarah's befuddled mind. _What the hell is Jareth up to?_

* * *

Jareth surveyed his handiwork with pleasure while the gaggle of goblins jabbered their praise incoherently behind him. With the help of a washable black hair dye—even goblins, however, stupid, succumbed to vanity—and a witches brew from the junk lady to turn his eyes a mismatched green, Toby now looked the part of Jareth's son with ease. His facial structure was similar enough to Sarah's to pass for her child such that a dye job, pupil dilation and heavy hair tease was enough to convince anyone that Jareth was the boy's biological father.

The plan was simple: gain entry into the castle under the guise of Jareth's long-lost son and his beggarly companion, catch Danic off his guard and take him captive. They had already heard from a goblin sentry that, under the urging of Hoggle and the others, the goblins had gathered enough courage to stage a meager rebellion. The result was far from decisive, but the scattered—and scatter-brained—goblins had managed to hole Danic up in his own throne room. In three weeks, he hadn't left for fear of being overwhelmed by his discontent, troublesome subjects.

Jareth smiled inwardly at the goblins heartfelt, if not entirely successful coup—they had proved themselves to be far more loyal than he'd ever suspected. They missed him as their king and he'd had to utter a powerful invective against any who dared unveil his presence in the kingdom in order to quell their enthusiasm and penchant for gossip. _It will be over soon and then, there will no longer be a need for secrecy. When I again rule, they can gossip to their heart's content. _

A tug on his sleeve brought him back from the future and he glowered down at the pig-like goblin grasping his sleeve. The goblin withdrew his hand speedily, his eyes darting nervously from the former Goblin King's face to the black smudge on his shirt cuff where the creature's fingers had grasped it. "Sir—sire—my lord, um……"

"Well, what is it?" Jareth replied, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice.

"I was gonnna…emm…I mean…urg…time to go?" he ended lamely, his stubby snout quivering with fear and glistening with mucus. A big glob trickled down and splattered inches from Jareth's toe. The goblin squealed and ran behind the back of a taller, bull-faced goblin standing nearby.

"Wot this 'ere gimp is tryin' to say is, weren't it time you and the tyke be gettin' on wit yer bisness?" The bull-faced goblin straightened up, sneering at his sniveling compatriot.

"And what is that to you, Snuffwart?" said Jareth disdainfully.

"It's Snagglespurt, yer majesty," the goblin replied with dignity. "And I've been yer loyal supporter while these louts ran away, afeared of that lumbering dolt sittin' on yer throne. I wants to see the rightful king back in charge, yer majesty. And we're all gettin' a mite antsy pantsy about it, if ya know whats I mean." The goblins shuffled their feet impatiently and fingered their weapons. A few cowered anxiously behind larger goblins but it was clear that, one and all, they were ready to fight for Jareth and his rightful authority.

"Well then," Jareth replied, an amused smirk on his face. "I best be, as you say, 'getting on' with my business."

He flicked his wrist and a crystal shimmered to life in his palm. Without further ado, he hurled it earthward and, as the goblins gaped in awe, Jareth began to shrink until he was no taller than Toby. His back hunched over and his nose and mouth elongated into a beak-like mouth. His hair grew wispy and his fingers curled into claws. His clothing became mere rags. He placed a tattered, overlarge tricorn hat with an enormous brim atop his balding pate and, shuffling piteously, motioned for Toby to follow him.

"You must treat me with disdain, Toby, as well as everything else you lay eyes on," Jareth rasped, his beautiful voice now croaking and his joints creaking with age. "Do not pay much attention to me otherwise, otherwise everyone else will, too. I found you outside the Labyrinth when you came to lay claim to your rightful throne. And remember, I am going to 'betray' you to Danic. Act surprised."

"Got it. But how am I to explain where I came from and how I got here?" Toby asked, uncertain how to lie convincingly regarding a plot he knew so little about.

"You will have to put up with telling lies, Toby. When Sarah came eight years ago, she did more than conquer the Labyrinth. You must tell Danic that she and I had a 'romantic encounter'— there is no need for details, he'll understand what that means."

"Even _I_ understand what that means, Jareth," Toby retorted, disgusted. "Ugh, I don't want to think about you and Sarah like that."

"Then don't. Don't think, just speak," said Jareth, amused. He neglected to point out to Toby that he and Sarah _did_, in fact,have a child together. "She gave birth to you in the Aboveground and brought you back secretly when she returned a year ago. No one, not even I, knew that you existed. When Sarah left to search for me, she left you in the care of Hoggle and Sir Didymus, but you ran away from them in order to regain your lost inheritance. That is, once you discovered that my kingdom had been usurped from you, the rightful heir. Your mother and father—Sarah and I for the time being—have no idea that you are here and no intention of coming back so far as you know. You're out for any and all power that you can get since you are, for all intents and purposes, an orphan."

"What do I do if he asks for proof?" said Toby.

"I will supply the necessary magical illusions, Toby, no need to worry about that," said Jareth confidently. "So long as you pay no attention to me, neither will they and I will be able to trick them into seeing you performing magic. They will, of course, test you for a disguise, but because I used no magic in 'transforming' you they will believe that you are as you appear to be."

"What about you?"

"I? They'll ignore me," Jareth wheezed. "They will have no need to suspect a semi-blind, old beggar like me. I have learned what Danic has yet to discover: never underestimate someone based on his or her appearance. I learned that from your sister." Jareth opened his beak in something approaching a wry grin and the two proceeded, silently, toward their objective: the castle throne room.

They gained entry to see Danic with ease; Toby had immediately fallen into his role with exemplary expression and bearing. Jareth beamed mentally at Toby's antics, seeing them as a parody of his own arrogant charm and confident self-importance. Toby mimicked him flawlessly in his child-like way, producing the proper mix of innocence and calculation that Jareth would expect from a child who had inherited the Goblin King's temperament.

"Tell that usurper that the son of Jareth, rightful Goblin King and Lord of the Labyrinth wishes to see him," Toby commanded a guard dozing at his post near the door to the throne room. "Or do you want to face a beating when your traitorous master learns that you've been sleeping on duty?"

_Perfect_, Jareth affirmed mentally. _Toby really has a knack for this._

The guard stood ramrod straight and scurried into the throne room to relay the message, his movements jittery.

"How was that?" Toby whispered.

"Flawless," Jareth replied in a muffled undertone. "Keep that up and we'll have Danic running scared in no time."

The guard returned and ushered them into Danic's presence before disappearing hurriedly lest he face wrath from either quarter.

"Who are you?" Danic demanded, his skull-like face twisted with wrath and disbelief. "I do not believe this wild tale my guard tells me. A young boy claiming to be the son of Jareth? Such a tale could not possibly be true and I refuse to believe it."

"I really don't care if you believe me or not, Danon," Toby retorted, mimicking Jareth's air of careless disdain.

"Danic," the current king corrected. His face darkened and storm clouds gathered in his black eyes. Every muscle in his body tensed with wrath; his jaw clenched and a muscle in his cheek began to twitch uncontrollably.

"You see, I _am_ Jareth's son and you _will_ give me back my throne and my kingdom, immediately." Toby crossed his arms and tapped his small foot impatiently. Though he remained outwardly calm, his heart was pounding faster than a horse in the Kentucky Derby. His palms were sweating profusely and he was thankful for his armpits to hide them in.

"Hold steady, Toby," he heard Jareth murmur beside him. Jareth flicked his eyes to the hidden exit behind the throne and through the thin veil of magic he could dimly perceive a crouched figure. Even across the distance he knew it to be Sarah; he had felt her presence as soon as she drew near the door—the scent of her magic was tantalizing, threatening his self-control. He would make up for it later. If they succeeded.

Knowing that everyone and everything was in place for this, his final showdown with Danic, Jareth took charge of the situation immediately.

"My lord," he croaked. "What kind of a reward do you have for me? I who have faithfully served you in bringing this child to you for you to dispose of."

"What?" Toby wheeled on his companion in shock. "I though you were my friend. You said you would help me! How dare you turn on me like this?!"

"It seems this child finds your true allegiance most distressing," Danic mocked, set at ease by the beggars treachery—any ill deed soothed him, and deceit most of all.

According to plan, Toby fumed, his tiny frame trembling with nine-year-old fury. "You said you were my friend. I'll kill you for this, I swear."

Jareth backed away from the disgruntled youth—and toward the throne—with his hands outstretched as if to ward off Toby's impending attack. Toby 'chased' Jareth across the room, around the central pit, and toward Danic, halting only when Jareth collapsed feebly on the stone steps at Danic's feet. "You betrayed the wrong prince, old beggar, you'll suffer a thousand terrible deaths in an instant and beg me to end your life before I finally kill you. In the Aboveground, we see torture every day and I'm not afraid to use it on you."

Toby flicked his wrist as he'd seen Jareth do a hundred times and a spinning crystal orb appeared in his palm, the tiny flick of the beggar's clawed fingers passing completely unnoticed by Danic, who watched with dark amusement.

Quick as lightning Toby hurled the crystal at Danic, however, a slight movement of his eyes before hand had warned the traitorous king of his intentions and Danic ducked out of the way in a millisecond before the crystal exploded into the throne with blue flame.

"What the hell do you think you're doing boy?" Danic roared. He picked himself up off the floor and wiped a drop of blood from his lips. "You must have a death wish yourself if you think to take back Jareth's throne on your own. You're only a child and a half-titan at that, if you really are who you say you are. You don't have the power Jareth had, and even if you did, you haven't fully grown into them. I'll crush you like I did your mother—a fly against the wall."

Toby howled angrily at the unbidden memory of Sarah's unconscious, bleeding form lying limply against the wall.

"Don't you dare talk about Sarah like that!" He screamed, angry tears streaming down his boyish face.

"Sarah?" Danic echoed. "Do Aboveground boys call their mothers by their first names? Or," his thin lips curled into a humorless smile and his depthless eyes flickered dangerously. "Have you been lying to me?"

"L-lying?" Toby parroted and he could not keep a note of fear from creeping into his voice.

"Yes," Danic growled, flashing his pointed teeth at Toby menacingly. "Lying."

"If he has been," a new voice replied. "He isn't the only one. Look under your nose, Danic; the boy was just a ruse to let me in without you stopping me."

Danic wheeled about to face the familiar voice of his nemesis; Jareth sat calmly on his throne, feet dangling over one arm of the chair nonchalantly. He smirked, "While you were busy bullying the child, I seem to have taken my throne back. Now if you would kindly stop talking, I would like to depose you and retake my kingdom."

"Depose me?" Danic sneered. "I don't care how you managed to get here, Jareth, or get out of Hell, but you cannot possibly think I will give up my power without a fight."

"I never said I did," Jareth answered darkly, his face no longer amused but grim. "I'm going to follow the rules this time, Danic. No games and no treachery, unlike you." Jareth stood and faced his enemy head on, motioning Toby to fall back behind him. "I challenge your authority here in the Goblin Kingdom and call you to fight me for the right to rule and reign over it. Will you accept?"

"Oh, of course I accept," Danic grinned cruelly. "I have been waiting for this, Jareth. A long time." The next moment, the dais was engulfed in wicked red flames; from her hiding place, Sarah screamed.

* * *

Sarah watched the unfolding drama of the throne room with trepidation. _So this is what Jareth wanted Toby for,_ she surmised. She swiftly saw through Jareth's disguise when a curious Hoggle pointed out that the beggar was the same one Jareth had disguised himself as before their run-in with The Cleaners.

Her heart gave a little quiver of fear when Toby turned on Jareth. Were things not going as planned? Her fear ebbed when she saw Jareth wink subtly in her direction. _He knows I'm here_. She grinned and reassured her concerned companions that this was part of Jareth's plan. They all watched Jareth closely as Toby pursued him around the room and because he eyes were intent on him, she did not miss the flick of his hands when Toby 'summoned' a crystal to attack him. _Smart thinking Jareth_, she mentally applauded him. _Danic won't see anything coming. _

Sarah did, though the knowledge did not prevent her jumping when the throne, a mere yard away, burst into flames from Jareth's crystal. She heard nothing of the conversation between Toby and Danic, hushed as it was, but she watched gleefully as Jareth resumed his natural form and flopped unceremoniously onto his throne without Danic noticing. She enjoyed watching her husband's more subtle displays of power and trickery. Her heart soared, _We're going to win! I can't believe it; we've almost done it. _

She whispered excitedly to Sir Didymus, Hoggle and Ludo that Jareth had succeeded in retaking the throne and the group quietly rejoiced. Sir Didymus was ready to barge into the room to support his King and Ludo looked eager to join the fray as well. Hoggle, as usual, urged that they wait until it had all boiled over.

"Just as I thought," Hoggle grumbled. "We didn't even need to go through this whole mess to get here. Coulda just waited outside for Jareth to finish 'im off."

So absorbed were they in congratulating themselves on their success that no one heard Jareth challenge Danic except Sir Didymus, who had wandered over to the curtain in disappointment at not being allowed to fight. He alone witnessed Jareth call for a duel over the throne.

"My lady," he called out, his whiskers twitching eagerly. "A duel! The King has challenged the traitor to a duel! There is nothing more glorious, more honorable than this—a man-to-man battle for the right to rule this illustrious land. Oh we must watch, my lady!"

He tugged ardently at her sleeve and Sarah, dazed, followed him to the doorway. "See?" Sir Didymus pointed eagerly at the two men staring each other down across the dais as a wall of red flames sprang to life on the other side of the barrier.

Sarah screamed as the others looked on with horror. The flames had successfully barricaded them into their hiding place, where they would be unable to help Jareth defeat Danic. Although the flames could not harm them, they all felt the temperature of the passageway steadily increase as the flames licked hungrily at the walls outside their shelter.

Sarah pressed herself as close to the exit as possible, unwilling to miss any part of the battle raging outside. She could see Danic's dark figure crouching on the floor below the dais, his back to her, but she could not see Jareth. In a flash, a figure leapt from the central pit, the bright gleam of a sword reflecting the red flames dully as it arced downward toward Danic.

The clash of metal on metal resounded throughout the throne room. Jareth stumbled backward as Danic brought his own weapon—a heavy, double-bladed axe—to bear against Jareth's longsword. He pressed his attack, hoping to force Jareth into the pit and thus gain the advantage but Jareth knew his throne room like the back of his hand. As Danic attacked, his heel hovered above the edge of the pit, but instead of falling, he sprang back lightly, landing gracefully on the opposite side.

"You forget your foe, Danic," Jareth taunted. "I built this castle from the rubble and ruled here, in this very room, for millennia. I know its ways far better than you could hope to."

Danic grunted, his eyes overshadowed with increased fury. He created a dagger from the air and whipped it at Jareth, targeting his heart. Jareth sidestepped the missile with a laugh and summoned a crystal. Danic flinched, but the orb sailed right past him and collided with the dais, extinguishing the roaring flames.

"That was your first mistake Jareth," Danic hissed through clenched teeth. He sprang lithely and, using the throne as a springboard, launched himself at Jareth, both hands glowing with dull red fire. While still in the air, he threw two balls of red fire directly at Jareth, who barely dodged them in time but was thrown off his feet.

Danic landed on cat's feet and launched a barrage of fireballs as Jareth rolled sideways in an effort to avoid the fiery onslaught.

Danic's axe reappeared in his hand and he swung it downward, hoping to cut Jareth in half. Jareth rolled the other direction, kicking wildly as he rolled and swiping Danic's legs out from under him.

Danic landed with a grunt and his axe clattered to the floor. Jareth kicked the weapon away from Danic's searching fingers and jumped to his feet. He swung his longsword at Danic's head, but missed when Danic threw his body to the left. He rolled on his back and swung his legs upward, vaulting himself from the floor an onto his feet to face Jareth eye to eye.

Danic magicked a second dagger into his right hand and flung it at Jareth's head. Jareth sidestepped it easily, surprised at Danic's straightforward attacks. _He's a deceiver and a traitor, why is he coming at me head on? This isn't like him._

Sooner than he expected, the anticipated deception came and when it did, Jareth was taken completely by surprise. Danic launched a third dagger, this one aimed at Jareth's stomach. Jareth ducked and rolled, but when he came up, Danic had launched another attack, this time with fire. Jareth barely had time to recover his balance from the roll when a ball of red flame burst inches from his nose.

He ducked again and a second flaming missile burst where his face had just been. Danic barely paused between throws and so brutal was his attack that Jareth was unable stand. Rolling and crab-walking across the throne room, Jareth halted only when he felt the cool, smooth surface of the wall at his back. Danic stood over him, grinning maliciously—his canine teeth glittered wickedly, twin fangs against thin lips and a face like death.

"Now, my fine, _former_ Goblin King, you are mine," he hissed. He raised his right hand and his axe materialized, the blade winking cruelly in the dim light from the torches. "Die, Jareth."

Danic swung his arm, but it got no further than a few inches when he buckled suddenly. His chest was thrust forward violently and the thin point of a blade appeared, followed by the slow-spreading stain of blood on his chest. The axe clattered to the stone and he fell forward, arms outstretched to catch his fall; his eyes bulged, widening in shock as he caught sight of the blade protruding from his chest.

"What—" he gasped.

"Payback, Danic," a female voice explained. Danic turned his head in time to see Sarah descending the stone steps of the dais, a warrior-like glint in her furious eyes. "You threw me into a wall once. I thought a dagger through the chest would be poetic justice for what you did to me," her lips curved slightly. "Or not. I was never good with poetry."

With Danic off-guard, Jareth drew his legs up under him and threw them upward, sending Danic flying. He landed on his back and the dagger burst three more inches out of his chest in a fountain of blood. He twitched once, then lay still, his eyes staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. His face was frozen with the shock of being killed by Sarah.

Sarah's hands glowed with pale green fire; her chest heaved with exertion. On her back, Galen stirred and let out a lusty cry, snapping Sarah back into the present. "Oh, you must be hungry," she stated warmly, switching from warrior queen to nurturing mother in a fraction of a second.

Jareth gazed at his wife in awe, amazed at her control and the multi-dimensional nature of the female form. _Mother, wife, Queen and consort,_ he chuckled wryly. _She can be all that and more in a matter of minutes. _He noted that the green aura surrounding her hands had disappeared the instant she focused attention on their son. _That must be the form her magic takes,_ he mused. _Green fire. Interesting. I knew I wasn't wrong to have Hoggle lead her to the secret passage. She's likely angry with me for the trickery on my, and his part, but the rewards are far worth the risk. _

"You saved my life, Sarah," said Jareth admiringly. He pulled himself roughly to his feet and surveyed the damage to his person—a number of bruises, a broken rib and a superficial cut to his face—all easily healed with very little magical exertion.

"I wasn't going to let him kill you in front of the baby and Toby," Sarah paused. "Toby. Toby, where is he? Toby?" She screamed, suddenly frantic. "Toby?!"

"Sarah!" Her brother rushed out from behind a stack of wine barrels in the far corner and raced toward his sister. "Sarah, I'm okay!"

"Oh, Toby," she sighed, tearfully. "I thought for a second that I'd lost you."

Toby buried his face in her stomach, hugging her tightly, his reply muffled by the fabric of her skirt. Galen cried again, frustrated that his mother had not replied to his request for food. He reached a tiny hand out of the cloth sling holding him attached to Sarah and touched her neck, _Mommy! HUNGRY!_

Sarah chuckled and pulled Toby away, "I'm sorry little brother, but Galen's hungry and I'm the only one who can feed him."

"Oh, sorry," Toby replied, wiping tears from his strange green eyes. "Can I watch?" He asked innocently.

Jareth guffawed loudly, his elegant face alight with mirth. Sarah blushed crimson and answered her brother gently but firmly, "No, Toby."

"Come on, Toby," Jareth added, unable to keep from laughing at the thought of Toby watching Sarah breastfeed Galen. "Let's get that dye out of your hair and turn your eyes back to their normal shade. It's uncanny how much you could pass for our son when you look like this."

"Fine," Toby replied glumly. "I still don't understand what's so funny. Or why I can't stay with Sarah."

"I'll explain it when you're older," said Jareth, winking slyly at Sarah over his shoulder as he walked out of the throne room, once again King in his own Kingdom.

**

* * *

Thank you all for your continued interest in my work. I have and continue to have a lot of fun writing this and I enjoy all your feedback. Have a great evening! Until the next chapter :D**


	35. The Final Showdown, Part 2

**Sorry for the wait, everyone. I've had a very stressful week, but at least its over. Weekends are wonderful! Enjoy!**

* * *

"You realize this is far from over," said Jareth, his face uncharacteristically grim.

Sarah sighed, "I understand, but can't we just enjoy the moment? We're together again; we have a _son_ and all our friends are safe, including Toby. Can't we please just _be_ together for a while before we start fighting again?" She was lying in bed, propped with pillows; Galen was nestled on her chest, sleeping soundly and peacefully in his mother's arms—the perfect picture of familial serenity. Jareth lay next to them both, flat on his back with his eyes fixed unseeingly on the ceiling—even in the stillness, one could not help but feel the restlessness exuding from his every pore.

Sarah touched Jareth's face awkwardly, trying not to wake Galen. "I spent such a long time trying to find you and bring you back, I want to have the space and time to be happy that you're back and both of us are safely home again."

"I'm sorry, darling," Jareth replied softly. He raised himself up on one elbow to look at his wife and son. "I've never been good at resting when there's work to be done."

"You're a man of action, Jareth," Sarah smiled. "It is one of the things I love about you."

Jareth grinned mischievously and tossed his mane of wild blonde hair. "What's not to love about me, Sarah? Please, enlighten me."

"Your arrogance for one thing," said Sarah teasingly. "You're far to convinced of your own importance and good looks."

"Don't tell me you no longer find me attractive," Jareth replied in mock-alarm. "I thought you found me captivating; that's why you came back to the Labyrinth, isn't it? Admit it, you couldn't resist me," Jareth eased closer to Sarah, his hand reaching up to wind a strand of her ebony hair around his finger. He buried his lips in her neck, whispering against her skin, "I've never been able to resist you."

"Shhh, Jareth," Sarah murmured, a soft moan escaping her lips as Jareth nuzzled his nose against her neck. "You'll wake the baby."

Without a word, Jareth summoned a crystal in his free hand, creating a crib on the side of the bed in one deft movement of his hand. A second crystal floated Galen softly away from Sarah and into the bed, where he was immediately swathed in comfortable blankets and a shimmering, sound-proof bubble barely visible in the soft light of the bedroom. Jareth swiftly pulled out the pillows supporting Sarah's back and head so that she was lying flat beneath him.

"Now," said Jareth, gazing down into his wife's green eyes. "You were saying?"

Love drove all thoughts of fear and trepidation from their minds; the future lost all its power to the beautiful mystery that is the bond between husband and wife. All words faded between them as their long subdued passion took a firm hold of their bodies—silk and skin and a tangle of black and blonde hairs so intimate that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. In his crib, Galen slept soundly through the night, hearing nothing, which was precisely how his father had wanted it.

* * *

Sarah awoke with the taste of sunlight on her lips; she was content, satisfied, secure. Her child and her husband were well and whole, their kingdom restored and nothing could diminish her joy. She rolled over and found Jareth already awake and reading in bed from a black-leather bound tome she did not recognize. He wore a pair of reading glasses he reserved for only the most intense scholarly work and a stray lock of his blonde hair kept falling into his eyes in the most delightful way.

"Interesting reading?" She asked quietly. Jareth grunted in reply but offered no more. She was about to ask him what the book was when Galen let out a wail from his crib. He clearly did not like being sequestered away from his mother. His face was cherry red and his little fists were balled up tightly, beating the air.

"Shhh, don't worry," Sarah crooned as she picked him up gently from his bed. "Mommy's here. Daddy and I had some unfinished business to take care of last night, so you had to sleep here. Shh, I know, I know. You're hungry. Let's get you something to eat while Daddy works."

Sarah returned to the bed, propped her pillows up and nestled down to nurse Galen. She focused all her attention on her son, enjoying the morning tranquility. Beside her, she could hear Jareth muttering under his breath, but it made no sense to her, so she tuned it out.

"Cognitive awareness of magical distortion," he muttered quietly. He read on, turning pages slowly. He talked to himself out loud frequently and turned back when he didn't understand Apollo's arguments. Discerning Apollo's convoluted reflections was rough going. "One must recall the requisite mediums for magical persistence…relaying information across disassociated worlds…attempt to reverse polarity in the field of magical distortion might yield profitable results… gah!" Jareth threw the book across the room in frustration.

"What's bothering you, Jareth?" Sarah asked. She looked up at him through the curtain of her long, ebony hair.

"It's this cursed book," Jareth replied angrily. "I can't make head or tails of Apollo's writing; they're more complicated than a centaur's astronomical philosophizing!"

"What is it about?" she pressed. "Maybe I can help you sort it out."

"Well, its about the degradation of magic Apollo told me about in Erebus," Jareth began. "He warned me that because of the magical curse that banished my family to the Underground, the magical fabric that holds the world together has been corrupted and is in danger of dissipating altogether. If that happened, the whole world would be destroyed. When I left, he tricked me into taking this book along with me and I hoped it would give me the answers I needed to figure out how to reverse the magic Zeus used."

"And it isn't in the book?" Sarah queried gently.

"No!" Jareth retorted heatedly. "The book is positively useless. It gives me the how and the why of the curse and the subsequent breakdown of magic, but it doesn't tell me how to fix it. I'm beginning to think that Apollo didn't know _how _to fix the problem, only that the problem existed." He sighed in exasperation and threw up his hands. "Which means that I'm going to have to come up with a solution on my own."

"Not entirely on your own, Jareth," Sarah reassured him. "I'll help you."

Jareth gave her a disbelieving look, "I'm sorry Sarah, but you've only just come into your magic, so I'm not sure—"

"I know enough about magic to defeat the Labyrinth don't I?" she flung back. "And to save your life when Danic was going to kill you? Besides, things aren't always what they seem. The solution might be simpler than you think. So explain it to me, from the beginning."

Jareth proceeded to lay out the whole of what he had gleaned from Hermes, Apollo and the journal. Sarah listened intently, saving her questions for when he had completed his tale in full.

"So, if I understand you correctly, the disruption is a matter of relationship, right? The 'silence' or exile of one world from the others weakens the magic holding all three of them together?"

"Correct," said Jareth, filled with admiration for his wife's keen intelligence. "If one world is cut of from communication or physical interaction from the others, everything begins to erode."

"So it seems to me that the way to fix it would be to rebuild the relationship," Sarah replied nonchalantly, her attention diverted by Galen's desire to shift positions.

Jareth gaped at his wife. _Could it be that simple? It's all about relationships…like people. Could magic really be…akin to humans and titans?_

"I suppose you could think of it as a similar type of relationship between a man and a woman, like you and I," Sarah continued, echoing Jareth's thoughts. "When I defeated the Labyrinth, our relationship with each other was severed and it festered for seven years. Seven _long_ years," she added with a wink. "So long as we remained apart, our relationship festered and began to rot. The only way it was restored was through re-establishing communication and interaction."

"You came to the Labyrinth," said Jareth, light quickly dawning on his face.

"Not of my own volition, mind you, but imagine how much more quickly our relationship would have been repaired if one of us had been mature enough to extend the hand of forgiveness earlier?" Sarah replied. "Now apply that to the three worlds. They are like three entities living in communion with each other through the bond of magic. But one of them has been 'cut off' from communion with the other two. In order to restore the bonds, we have to bring them back into relationship with each other, get them 'talking' again, if you pardon the colloquialism."

"We get to be Toby," Jareth grinned.

"What? Oh, right—the one to force them to talk to each other again," Sarah grinned back. She wouldn't have thought it at the time, but she was thankful for Toby's foolish and rash wish eight years ago. _Without it, I wouldn't be here, and neither would you, Galen._ She snuggled closer to her son and breathed in the sweet scent of his newborn skin. _Thank you Toby._

"So all we need to do is just re-establish communication?" Jareth asked, once again returning his wife's attention to the conversation at hand.

"It seems that way to me. I think that would be the way to start. Teach people how to bypass the barrier and start making contact between the Underground and the Aboveground," Sarah paused. "I think eventually the communication will need to be both ways in order to fully restore the magic."

"Both ways? You mean bring humans down here?" Jareth wondered.

"Or animals or anything really, just so long as there is passage between the worlds in both directions," said Sarah.

"We could bring your parent's down for a family reunion," Jareth joked.

Sarah thought for a second, "You know, that might not be a bad idea."

"I was kidding," Jareth replied, suddenly humorless. "That's really not necessary."

"No, I think you're right!" said Sarah. "I think it would be good to bring them down, once everything is settled of course. What better way to begin healing the breach than by bringing my family down to see where and how we live. I would love for them to meet your family as well; it bothers me that I have to live two separate lives like this. If my parents could come down here, maybe they could begin to trust you more," Sarah blushed with shame as she recalled the look of distrust on her father's face when she had seen him a few days ago. "Please Jareth, I think it's the perfect way to begin healing our worlds: heal our family."

"We can talk about that later," said Jareth dismissively.

"But Jareth, this is important," Sarah pleaded.

A knock at their chamber door cut short Jareth's reply.

"Who is it?" He demanded loudly.

"Yer Highnesses-es," a squeaky voice replied. "Erm…Visitors!"

"Who?" said Jareth warily, recalling the last time 'visitors' had interrupted he and Sarah in bed in the morning.

"Ummm…" the goblin trailed off. "Uh…a lady and a man? They say they're from the dry-adds, sir."

"Phainon and Opalia," Sarah interjected. "Chronus told us they were hiding out with their daughter in the dryad kingdom. They must have heard we defeated Danic."

"News travels fast in this kingdom," Jareth grumbled. "Loud-mouthed goblins."

"Don't forget we need them to confront the Court," Sarah reminded him. "I think this is a stroke of good luck. We don't even have to go find them."

"But it does mean we won't be able to rest for a while," Jareth answered gently, cupping Sarah's face and stroking her hair softly.

"I know, beloved," Sarah whispered. "We have one more battle to fight, together."

"Um, yer Highnesses?" The squeaky-voiced goblin knocked again at the door. "Should I tell them yer…uh…busy?"

"No, no," said Jareth. "Tell them we'll be out in a moment." He turned to his wife. "Ready?"

"Always," she answered, green fire flaring to life in her eyes. "Let's get that bastard."

Their conversation with Phainon and Opalia was brief and to the point. Jareth filled them in with the necessary details of his exile and Apollo's warning regarding the corrupted magic and Sarah recounted her journey to rescue him and their subsequent battle with Danic. Phainon, for his part, could barely conceal his admiration for the Goblin King and Queen—he'd always had a soft spot for Jareth and the perseverance Sarah displayed in rescuing him only increased his approbation for the couple. In the end, both he and his wife expressed delight at meeting Galen and pronounced a blessing over him and his future.

"I think the name you have chosen is significant," said Opalia as she held the sleeping infant. "Healer. This little boy will be instrumental in bringing about the required healing between worlds. Indeed, he is already a testimony to the power of healing: he is the offspring of an Aboveground mother and Underground father—no such child has ever existed in the history of our three worlds. He is a living witness that restoration can occur and indeed will occur in the future."

"May your family be blessed with many more children to bring about healing in our respective lands, but know also that we welcome you into our family, Sarah," Phainon averred. "We are indeed honored to welcome your presence among the immortals. You are an inspiration to us all regarding the need to fight for what we love and challenge those who would destroy us."

Sarah blushed, "Thank you." From his place in Opalia's arms, Galen pried his eyes open and squawked. "I think Galen wants to say 'thank you' as well," Sarah replied, taking the infant back from Opalia. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, "Either that, or he needs to be changed."

* * *

Like the continued lapping of waves on the seashore, the journey to the Court of the Wise was perfunctory and unremarkable. They arrived just as the sun's blood red disc faded behind the ragged peaks. Motes of magic floated away from them—the last vestiges of their voyage—and faded into the dying light, unseen by all but the tiny golden eyes of a fairy lurking in the shrub. Four pairs of feet walked slowly, resolutely to the blue steps and paused, as if seeking the final resolve necessary to propel them forward and onto the cold stone. Phainon and Opalia hung back, allowing Jareth and Sarah to have a moment alone.

Gently as a whisper, Jareth took Sarah's hand in his own, murmuring, "Are you ready?" Sarah nodded, squeezing Jareth's hand. The Goblin King and Queen were joined silently by Phainon and Opalia and the four set their faces toward the looming white doors. They walked the halls swiftly—their blue arches silent as death—and when they reached the Courtroom both Phainon and Jareth both raised their hands to knock on the sealed doors.

Jareth chuckled and withdrew his hand, "After you, Arbiter. I've regained my throne, it's time for you to regain yours."

Phainon did not reply, but the corners of his mouth pulled upward slightly and his eyes twinkled with glee. As a man of action himself, Jareth could perceive Phainon was itching for a fight. _This should be good_, he thought, one of his eyebrows rose of its own accord. _I wonder if he's as good a duelist as he is an Arbiter._

"I'm not, Jareth," Phainon growled. "I'm much more deadly with magic than I am in the Court."

"Excellent," Jareth replied. "I'm looking forward to this."

"As am I, Jareth, as am I," the Arbiter muttered. He brought his fist down on the doors—the demand for justice and order echoing like the ring of a gavel. Yet once he had knocked, he began to second-guess his decision. Before the doors opened, he turned to Jareth once more. "I am beginning to think…no, I _do_ think it wise that we hold off on making my presence known until Ammon's hold on the court is weakened."

"You're backing out?" asked Jareth, taken aback by the Arbiter's choice.

"Win the court to your side. As long as they stand behind Ammon, even if unwillingly, then there is no chance for me to resume power. You must convince them that the only way to restore order and structure to the Underground is to depose Ammon and reinstate Opalia and myself."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Sarah asked.

"That, I leave in your husband's capable hands," Phainon replied. Jareth's face took on a devilish smile and a wicked glint appeared in his eyes. Sarah recognized the look: Jareth was gearing up for a fight.

Just at that moment, the doors opened, seemingly of their own accord. Phainon and Opalia withdrew to stand in the shadows behind the opened doors, magic at the ready. They would remain invisible to all within the courtroom until Jareth signaled that it was time for them to come forward and reclaim that which rightfully belonged to them. Behind them, the rising moon cast a faded silver light onto the courtyard; an owl hooted nearby.

Sarah and Jareth, eager to begin, strode confidently into the throne room. With Galen safely stowed away with Felicia and Makarios in the tunnels nearby, Sarah could focus all her energy on wielding and honing her newfound abilities without fear of Galen ending up collateral damage due to her ineptitude or Ammon's ferocity. Though she hated parting from him, she hated the thought of injuring him more.

_And if I didn't hurt him accidentally, there is no doubt in my mind that Ammon wouldn't stoop to threatening or harming my child to suit his own ends. I saw the way Danic looked at me when he attacked me; I can't imagine his father would be any less dangerous. A child doesn't learn such viciousness and willful disdain for life on his own; no doubt he inherited it from his father, that is, if what I remember of Felicia's tale is correct_.

Sarah recalled with perfect clarity the night her mother-in-law had first mentioned the cruel former king of the pegasi. _It was the night I realized my love for Jareth. Felicia was adamant that I understand Jareth as a man, rather than a king or immortal deity—as some from my world would view him. Ammon wanted to marry her because of a prophecy regarding the power her child would. Unlike Jareth, he refused to forget his spurned pursuit, though I hardly think he loved her in the same way Jareth loved—loves—me. However, even the sweetest milk turns sour if exposed to heat…and jealousy is a flaming fire that no one can quench…even after millennia…_

All these thoughts and more ran pell-mell through Sarah's head as she and Jareth walked through the courtroom doors. A hush fell on the room and her thoughts clattered to a halt. She could not hide her shock at the ruin and disarray confronting them. Nearly half of the seats stood empty—evidence both of timely exodus and Ammon's culling; the remaining courtiers appeared either coldly vindictive or simply frightened, evidence of Ammon's tyrannical ways. They would find no friends or allies in the courtroom; they were on their own.

"Out of that chair, Ammon," Jareth stated firmly, his voice echoing in the half-empty chamber. "It does not rightfully belong to you.

"Delightful to see you, Jareth," Ammon retorted snidely. "How was your trip?"

"Hell," quipped Jareth, his silvery voice laced with venom.

"I understand that I am to congratulate you, Sarah," Ammon continued. " You not only succeeded in your quest, you exceeded all my expectations for you. I am, however, extremely disappointed that you did not tell my son your plans. You should have mentioned you were going to rescue Jareth. I hate being outsmarted, especially by a human." Ammon spat the last word out of his mouth, his lips curled in a sneer.

"Don't you mean a woman?" Sarah flung back sharply.

"In my experience, neither are particularly capable of completing arduous tasks," he answered condescendingly. "I've never been able to figure out whether it was lack of intelligence or mere weakness—they're not up to the rigors this world, and yours, offer."

Sarah bristled, "Then you've underestimated both. I not only conquered the Labyrinth, but I also faced every danger your world, _and_ the underworld, had to offer and have returned victorious from both. Moreover, I was both a woman and a human, at least, for most of the time."

"Most?" Ammon echoed, slightly perturbed. "Is there something you wish to explain to the rest of this Court?"

"I am no longer human; I'm immortal," said Sarah. "Chronus and Rhea granted my petition for immortality the same day I rescued Jareth from the Underworld."

Ammon grinned predatorily, but there was fear behind his eyes, "I see. Now I comprehend why you can enter my courtroom without fear."

"No," said Sarah, defiant. "I can face you without fear because I, not Jareth, killed your son and therefore know that I am fully capable of confronting you—and winning."

Ammon finally lost his tenuous grip on control. He sputtered incoherently, his face purpling, quickly turning apoplectic. His hands clenched the arms of his chair ruthlessly—white knuckles against mahogany armrests. Rigid with rage, Ammon could do no more than stare fixedly at the two intruders—eyes bulging.

Jareth seized the opportunity to address the men and women seated in the auditorium. "Former kings and queens of the Underground. You have before you an opportunity—one that does not come frequently in life no matter how long it lasts—the opportunity to correct the mistakes made in this courtroom over a year ago.

"One year ago, when this lovely lady you see here consented to be my queen, this court decided to send a human boy, her brother, back to the Aboveground, his mind altered. Though I comprehend the need for secrecy, playing with a human's mind—a _child's_ mind, moreover—and destroying part of his life is akin to what our estranged family did so long ago. Was it not the interference with human life that we found so abhorrent in the Olympians?"

Jareth paused meaningfully, scanning the faces of his audience. A few shifted uncomfortably in their benches, his veiled accusation striking a core of decency Ammon's authoritarian tenure had stifled. Others, likely Ammon's supporters, were angry. The rest looked politely interested but neutral; they had not decided either for or against a return to the old regime.

Jareth mentally logged the varied responses and resumed his speech. "Did I do wrong to return a child's mind to him? You may ask, what is one memory? I say we ought to remember the fragility and finitude of our human neighbors. They live less than one century, making every memory precious. If one of us were to lose two weeks of time, it would be losing one drop of water from the ocean. We must not delude ourselves into thinking that because we live longer, we understand better than humans the meaning of time. In fact, it means less to us because it is so abundant. This court deprived a child of something valuable and I merely sought to return it."

A black haired man seated in the front row coughed politely—he was one of the casual observers, intrigued, but objective. "Even if we were to accept your logic, which we have not as of this moment, what are you proposing? Shall we throw the Court into chaos and turmoil for the second time in a year? We have only just returned to normalcy, shall we destroy our hard-fought peace?"

"Peace?" Sarah shouted. "What peace? Half your seats are empty. Is the price of peace to be the ruthless hunting down of any and all who disagree with Ammon's cruel policies? Would Phainon have tried to imprison or kill those who had a different opinion from his own? Would he have banished a man for doing nothing more than helping a small boy regain his lost memory?"

"Sarah, calm down," Jareth whispered. "We won't win with anger."

"Why not?" Sarah gestured expansively at the people seated around them. "They _should_ be angry for what Ammon has done not only to the Court but to the entire Underground! Your parents and the rest of those not sitting here were forced into hiding because Ammon put a price on their head. Don't look so shocked, Jareth. Didn't you know that Kyran and Alegra were imprisoned for nothing more than being your friends? Who knows if they're even still alive at this point. And the same thing would have happened to your parents and the rest of the Court who disagreed with Ammon, if he had his way."

"What is this nonsense?" said a thin, chestnut haired woman with deeply tanned skin. "Derrik, have you heard anything about this?" She turned to her seatmate, who shook his head negatively.

"Are you certain the Centaur King and Queen have been imprisoned?" The man called Derrik asked. His white hair contrasted sharply with his cocoa-colored skin and his snow-white brows were furrowed with concern. "We have heard no such news here in court. If this has taken place, it would be grievous indeed."

"Don't believe anything the little witch tells you," Ammon spat, finally recovering his voice and control enough to speak. "She's lying."

"No, she's not," a new voice replied. As fluid as a dance, the entire room turned to face the doors as Zimri trotted in slowly. His normally energetic face was pinched with fatigue and his black hair was pulled back in a severe, dirty ponytail at the nape of his neck. He came forward and stood next to the Goblin King and Queen. "I have come from the centaur kingdom to bring word that Danic's forces have attacked and overwhelmed our borders. In the absence of our king and queen, we are defenseless against their onslaught and the only hope is for the Court to intervene."

"But we heard news only a few minutes ago that Danic has been slain," Derrik replied.

Zimri nodded, "That is the very reason for the attack. We know Danic had amassed an army by which he sought to take over all the underground kingdoms. He had already gained Jareth's thrown by decree from his father," Zimri cast a hate-filled stare in Ammon's direction, "and they would have come for us next, if my lord Jareth and lady Sarah had not defeated the conniving Danic and sent him to Hades where he belongs. However, when the army discovered their leader's demise, his general decided to take matters into his own hands and make himself king over our lands in my lord Kyran's absence. They seek to succeed where Danic has failed. Alas, with out own king imprisoned, we have not the power to defeat General Sorin. I came to beg the Court's interference in this matter, as he is at this very moment besieging our capital with plans to attack the gnomes following his victory in our lands."

The Court hummed, agitation and disbelief rising and falling in the growing cacophony. The voices reached a fevered pitch; half the courtiers were shouting at the others and Ammon was shouting at them all. Sarah, Jareth and Zimri remained aloof, awaiting the outcome with bated breath. Suddenly, a cool breeze blew through, taking the collective breath away from everyone in the room.

"Is this the harmony you sought to protect in my absence?" Phainon boomed. He and Opalia appeared next to Jareth and Sarah in the blink of an eye.

"Is such accord worth protecting at the price of your family, friends and countrymen?" Opalia added, her gentle voice reaching even the furthest corners of the room. "Your leader breeds contention and disorder and such should not be the case with the Court of the Wise. Where is wisdom in such folly?"

"If wisdom lies in fear and discord," said Phainon sadly. "Then you have all truly become sages."

"The deposed fool has come to reclaim his throne has he?" Ammon jeered. He wore a mask of triumph as he surveyed the fear and uncertainty of the courtiers.

"I have not come to claim anything against the wish of the court," Phainon replied smoothly. "In case you have forgotten, Ammon, the role of Arbiter is elected by the Court, not taken by force."

"I remember perfectly," said Ammon. "Shall we put it to a vote?"

"Unless our eyes deceive us, the full quorum is not here, which means nothing can be decided upon," Opalia remarked. She turned to Zimri and asked, "Did you deliver my message?"

"I have, my lady," he answered gravely. "They should arrive at any moment."

Ammon had turned pale, "Who?" he growled. "Who is coming to disturb my Court?"

"Why, the rest of the Court, of course," Opalia stated lightly.

No sooner has she finished speaking, than an empty bench five rows up from the floor was suddenly occupied by a dark-skinned couple with black hair and somber faces. A few seconds later, and a woman with olive complexion and chestnut-eyes appeared with her white-blond consort to occupy a bench near the back corner. Within minutes, the entire courtroom was filled with the missing courtiers, including Felicia and Makarios, who both gave Sarah and Jareth encouraging, if furtive, smiles.

"There now," said Opalia and her full lips curved into a delighted smile. "That's much better. Asenath, will you summarize the proposal aloud to the court?"

Sarah saw the woman with the almond eyes—the same as had revealed to her the true nature of the Labyrinth—rise from her place at the foot of Ammon's seat, where she had been seated unobtrusively throughout the entire exchange.

"It has been proposed by one Jareth, King of the Goblins, that the Court repeal its decision regarding the erasure of memory from one Toby, human from the Aboveground. Should the proposal be accepted, all subsequent decisions predicated upon this decision will also be repealed, including, but not limited to, the exile of said Jareth, Goblin King, and the installment of Ammon, former king of the pegasi kingdom as High Arbiter of the Court. Upon the removal of Ammon from office, the Court will vote upon the appropriate replacement for the position of High Arbiter as well as the punishment due to Ammon for inciting rebellion in the Goblin and Centaur kingdoms as well placing kings and queens of the Underground in prison unlawfully and against the knowledge of this Court.

"Furthermore, it must be recognized that Ammon's son has acted in direct defiance of the Court by amassing a heretofore unknown army and, despite his demise, sought to rule the Underground of his own power instead of by the authority of this Court. His troops, especially one General Sorin, must be taken into custody and remanded for punishment, which must also be decided by this Court." Asenath rolled up the parchment in her hand and returned to her seat, taking out a fresh parchment to record the Court's decisions regarding the charges she had just read.

Silence deeper than the grave pervaded the room. Jareth, who had stood calmly by while Phainon and Opalia took charge, eventually lost his patience. "Well?" he demanded.

"Hush, Jareth," Opalia urged kindly. "In the Court of the Wise, lengthy thought precedes action; we do not rush decisions on impulse."

_Crash!_ While Opalia was still speaking Jareth had wheeled instantaneously, sending a crystal spinning into the air to land at Ammon's feet, chains snaking up from the ground to bind Ammon's limbs together tightly. With the Court engaged in silent deliberations, Ammon had sought to slip out from the room, no doubt to find a secure hiding place. Only Jareth's keen eye and quick thinking had kept him from escaping, for Jareth alone had spied the subtle twitch of Ammon's wrist that signaled the impending use of magic.

Ammon roared with rage as Jareth's magic imprisonments slithered round his arms and legs; he fought them ferociously, but the manacles moved of their own will in response to his efforts at escaping. The stronger he fought, the more tightly they bound him. Two clamps in the shape of hinged jaws appeared, swallowing his hands in their iron teeth where they would be unable to perform any magic. Despite this, Ammon refused to remain still; he screamed and hissed menacingly at the serpentine shackles, forcing them to bite into his legs so strongly he began to bleed.

"Jareth!!" He roared ferociously, ruthless as a tiger despite his impotence. "I'll kill you for this, _kill you!_"

"You tried that once, Ammon, and you didn't succeed," Jareth taunted. "It seems I have been gifted with the ability to rise from the grave. Not even hell can hold me."

Ammon continued to hiss and roar his rage and Jareth eagerly sent another crystal his way to bind his mouth with a gag. The former's feral eyes bored mercilessly into Jareth's back and Sarah shivered slightly as she felt them shift to her, filled with unbridled hatred.

A low murmur around them signaled the climax of the Court's deliberations. Derrik stood ceremoniously to his feet, the unofficial spokesman for the gathered men and women, "It is the decision of this Court, that Jareth's proposal should be accepted. We look with regret upon our actions regarding the boy, as they come perilously close to the wretched treatments the humans received at the hands of the Lost Ones—the Olympians. We also heretofore repeal Ammon's election to the role of High Arbiter and Jareth's subsequent banishment. Regarding the choice of a new High Arbiter, it is the hope and prayer of this court that the good lord Phainon will accept our apologies and accept the election to the post along with his wife and consort, Opalia."

"We accept your apologies," Phainon and Opalia replied. "And we accept the vote gladly, but on one condition."

Derrik glanced at his comrades and, receiving their approval, answered, "Name it."

"I accept the role of High Arbiter on condition that the mode of punishment for Ammon and his supporters be given to the Goblin King Jareth and his wife, as they are the most injured by this dreadful travesty."

The courtiers struck up a low hum as each turned to his or her neighbor inquiringly. Derrik raised his hands for silence and the room quieted, "We accept your condition."

"Good," Phainon replied, walking in a stately manner across the floor to resume his former seat, his wife beside him every step of the way. "Now, Jareth, what shall we do with him?"

Jareth was taken aback for a brief second, but his lips curled swiftly into his well-worn smirk and his hair quivered with barely suppressed pleasure. "Treat Ammon and his supporters with the same respect he showed me—exile him to Erebus. However, before they go, there is a place in my Labyrinth I would like them to become better acquainted with."

"Let it be done," Phainon decreed.

Questions darted frantically through the room like hummingbirds, but Jareth ignored them all. He was as pleased as a cat that had gotten into the cream in the larder and Sarah could barely contain her curiosity. "Dare I ask where are you feel so compelled to send them before they face the terrors of hell?" She whispered.

"The Bog of Eternal Stench, of course," Jareth grinned mischievously and pulled Sarah into his arms, heedless of the buzz of conversation hovering over them like a swarm of bees. "It is, after all, my favorite punishment for those who displease me."

Sarah groaned at the memory of the fetid stench filling her nostrils but before she could utter another word, Jareth tilted her head with one hand and kissed her forcibly. The rest of the world faded from existence as Jareth became the center of her world, eclipsing even the darkest terrors with the force of his attraction.

"I never want to lose you again," Jareth whispered hoarsely.

"Don't worry," said Sarah tenderly. "Not even death can part us—now that I'm immortal. So you're stuck with me, until the world falls down."

"It's only forever," Jareth murmured into her hair. "Not long at all."

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Well, you are all in luck today because I wrote this chapter and the epilogue all at once. You only have to wait a few minutes (maybe an hour) for the next and final chapter to come up! Thank you all for reading and we'll be done soon. **


	36. Epilogue

**Well, this is it, folks: the final chapter. I can't believe this story is over. It makes me sad, though it also feels awesome to have it done (finally!). I can't think of anything else to say right now, so I hope you enjoy the final chapter!**

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Sarah checked her hair nervously in her vanity mirror for the fourth time in a minute. Unconsciously, she straitened her coronet and smoothed the midnight blue satin of her skirt. Everything was ready for her family's arrival, and had been for several hours, but she couldn't help feeling anxious. _What are they going to think? Will Jareth be able to convince them to come see me after the fiasco with Toby? I'd be surprised if Karen doesn't ground him for life for disappearing without reasonable explanation, especially after Jareth and I showed up and practically kidnapped him from the house. Not to mention seeing Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus and the goblins. _

_Oh Lord, I forgot about the goblins and my friends…I bet Karen thought she was imagining things, and Dad? I don't know, Dad was always better at accepting things he didn't understand but still…a group of strange creatures standing around in his son's bedroom when his daughter and her husband show up and make them all disappear? That might be a stretch, even for _him.

A few weeks ago, Jareth had begun to restore the magic binding the three worlds together. Jareth and his team had begun to repair the broken relationship as Sarah had suggested; despite his hesitance, Sarah's insight proved correct and though it would take time, the breach had begun to heal. With the help of several talented young titans and titanesses and a few of the more experienced courtiers, Jareth had successfully reversed Zeus' curse and destroyed the barrier separating the Underground from the Aboveground. It was now possible for any and all of the denizens of the Underground to learn the magic necessary to cross between worlds, though such transport was heavily supervised by the Court.

All their work completed, they had returned again to the topic of Sarah's family coming to the Underground for a visit. Jareth had predictably balked at the notion, unsettled by the thought of his human in-laws being introduced to the wonders of the Underground so forcibly.

"It's the only way they will believe anything we tell them, Jareth," argued Sarah. "Humans have lived by science and reason for the past couple hundred years. They won't believe in anything so fantastical unless they see it with their own eyes and touch it with their own hands."

"You don't think it will give your step-mother a heart attack?" Jareth asked soberly.

"She might act like it will, but I believe that her hysterics are all for show, just to make sure everyone knows how upset she is. Besides, even if it does have a real heart attack, you or I can just revive her magically."

"You're quite set on this aren't you?" said Jareth,

Sarah crossed her arms and jutted her chin out defiantly, "Of course I am. It's my family and I want them to understand my life and my world."

Jareth crossed the room to Sarah, his eyes twinkling with amusement at his wife's belligerence, "Then they can come. I'll go get them myself this afternoon; they can come for dinner and decide if they would like to stay the night. I know Toby will want to, but I would like to have your father and step-mother's permission for Toby to stay with us. I was thinking maybe he could come for the rest of his summer vacation."

"Oh, he would love that, and so would I," Sarah replied, delighted that Jareth had given his approval. She would have invited her family to come either way, but she liked to have Jareth on her side, he was, after all, her husband. From his crib, Galen chirped loudly, voicing his delight at being able to meet his grandparents. "You'll be happy to see them all, won't you?" Sarah crooned. "I know they will love you very much. Who could help but love you, my handsome little boy?"

"No one could resist him," Jareth murmured into Sarah's neck. "He is _my_ son; he has my eyes, I think." He grinned at his son, who swatted playfully at his face and, grasping a lock of Jareth's long hair, tugged it hard. "Ooh, and his mother's temper."

Sarah elbowed Jareth in the ribs but he moved aside. "I better be going, love, if I am going to be getting your parents. I'm sure they will want to speak to me before we come back."

Sarah rolled her eyes and gave a longsuffering sigh, "I'm sure they will. I'll make certain the goblins clean up the place and are on their best behavior."

"Threaten them with the Bog if you have to," Jareth teased and with a light kiss on the nose and a soft farewell, he disappeared.

That had been four hours ago and Sarah was beginning to worry that her parents had decided to call the authorities and have Jareth arrested for kidnapping or worse. Her father had never been prone to fits of insanity, but he was extraordinarily protective where she was concerned and though he had been calm on the surface when she had told them she was leaving and getting married, she knew it had torn him up inside not to know where she was.

Galen rolled over in his crib and touched her arm. _Daddy coming, mommy,_ he thought at her. That instant, Sarah also had the familiar 'sense' of Jareth's magic—something she had cultivated in the past few weeks. Every magic wielder left an imprint on the magic they used, a signature by which others attuned to their magic could sense whenever the person was using magic nearby. Sarah felt, or rather _heard_, Jareth's magical signature—the soft flutter of wings on the wind—and an instant later he appeared, Karen and Robert on either side of him, gripping his arms as if he were a life preserver. Toby ran out from behind the threesome, gave his sister a rushed greeting and sped off in search of his friends—he wasn't one for formalities and he knew the adults were going to be awhile.

Sarah cleared her throat. "Welcome to the Underground," she said cheerily, her voice cracking slightly on 'underground.' "And welcome to my and Jareth's home here in the Goblin Kingdom. There is someone here who would like very much to meet you." Sarah picked Galen up from his crib and went over to where her father and step-mother stood rigidly at Jareth's side. Robert was gazing in awe at the cavernous space—the goblins had cleaned and 'nicened' it up, as they liked to say, to make it seem grander for the king and queen's special guests. Karen was eyeing Jareth suspiciously from the corner of her eye; she still didn't trust him.

Sarah stopped in front of her father and held her son out to him. "Dad, I'd like you to meet Galen, my son."

"Your what?!" Karen stared at the baby, shocked, immediately forgetting her suspicion and the strange, new place she found herself in.

Robert stared too, his eyes misting. "He's beautiful," he whispered hoarsely. He looked deeply into his daughter's green eyes. "Sarah—I…I always knew you were born for great things. I just never knew how great…" he trailed off, choking up with emotion. "He has your eye color, Sarah." Robert held out a finger to touch the wispy dark hair on Galen's head.

"Would you like to hold your grandson?" asked Sarah, her face filled with love for her father. Robert nodded and as Sarah handed Galen over into her father's strong arms, the little boy reached up to place his hand on his grandfather's cheek.

"He's saying hello," said Sarah, filled with motherly pride. "He likes you already."

"S-sarah?" said Karen shyly. "C-can I hold him next?" All her antipathy forgotten, Karen basked in the delight of a grandmother for a grandchild, even if only a step-grandchild. _Galen,_ Sarah thought, _my little healer._

Sarah beamed at her step-mother. "Of course you can, Karen. You need never ask; my family is your family and my home, your home." Karen teared slightly, amazed at the transformation time had wrought: from a rebellious and self-centered teenager, Sarah had grown into a strong, powerful woman with a good heart and kind spirit.

She reached out and hugged her stepdaughter spontaneously. "I'm proud of you, Sarah," said Karen softly. "I don't think I ever told you that enough. You've grown into quite a remarkable woman."

"She has, hasn't she?" Jareth interjected; his face wore a familiar mischievous smile, but his eyes were filled with loving admiration. Sarah blushed; she couldn't recall a time when her heart felt as full as it did now.

_

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After all her trials, the Goblin Queen finally found rest, body and soul. Like the calm after a summer storm, tranquility was hard fought and long in coming, yet enjoyed by all when it came. With her husband safely at her side and her son at her bosom, the Goblin Queen surveyed her kingdom with joy, anticipating the endless years she would enjoy in this, her true home. Her faithful friends—including the restored King and Queen of the centaurs—rejoiced in her victory and of all Queens in the Underground, she alone was called both warrior and mother. Women called her blessed and men, a might to be reckoned with. No one dared challenge her courage or valor, yet she tempered her power with compassion and elegance befitting a true wife and mother. _

_Throughout her reign discourse between her native land and new homeland increased a hundred-fold. It was the Age of Restoration, both of the Underground itself and the three worlds together. Her King continually strove to restore and renew the magic that had once been corrupted, a great part of which involved bringing outsiders across the boundaries of both worlds and forging relationships thereby, including the Queen's own family. _

_While he was alive, the Goblin Queen's father visited often and himself developed a love for the land and people of his daughter. His wife came but rarely. Once, the Goblin Queen's mother came—at the time the Queen gave birth to her third child, a daughter she named Linda, after her mother—but she did not come again. The youth who had once been a prisoner of the Goblin King—the young human child Toby—came at least once every year until the day he died and passed on into the Underworld, to join his father, mother and human friends. Our Great Queen was sad that day, the passing of human life no longer a threat to her, she was still not immune to the loss of her family. _

_Yet, like all Queens of the Underground, she did not reign forever. Indeed, after several millennia as Queen of the Goblin Kingdom—a rule filled with its share of joys and sorrows—she and her King relinquished their thrones to their eldest son Galen—a man of his father's power and mother's strength. With their reign over the Kingdom at an end, Goblin King and Queen retired to the Court of the Wise, taking an honored place beside their predecessors. The Goblin King's considerable talent for negotiation and argumentation fostered creative thinking and healthy debate and our Great Queen's experience and wisdom tempered the small-minded, narrow perspectives of the older generations. How long they shall remain with us at Court, we do not know, but the passing of years weighs no heavier upon them as it does upon all who bear the mantle of authority. Who knows now whether they might some day pass on into the wilds of the Underground to join the former King and Queen of heaven in their solitude and enjoy each other for eternity. _

_Thus ends the travails of the Goblin Queen. Before her there had never arisen a Queen like her, nor since has there ever been one to rival her in strength, perseverance, beauty and wisdom. This tale is now at an end and should any wish any further knowledge of the Goblin King, Goblin Queen and their children, one may consult the Annals and Histories contained within the Court archives. _

——_Excerpt from "The Travails of the Goblin Queen," Appendixed to the Annals of the Court of the Wise by Asenath, Court Scribe, in the year 7534, Age of Restoration_

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Thank you all for bearing with my writing and being so patient as I completed my work. I have greatly enjoyed interacting with you and hearing your perspectives. In my last chapter, I forgot to thank KawaiiScorpio for her idea regarding sending Ammon and the rest to the Bog of Eternal Stench—thanks so much for your great idea!**

**I would like to personally thank all of you who reviewed my story while it was in process. I deeply appreciate all your encouragement, insight, and fun notes. It helped me get things done so much faster knowing you were anticipating it. So thank you Ferlinda the Dreamweaver, hazlgrnLizzy, Gaming Girl, MyraValhalla, Shiroikami, Miyokoshape, notwritten, samjosam, GoblinPrincessAza, Arrna, AmarieElfMaiden, Opal Roses, Jane Owen, WhySoSerious1992, ChilaliSnowbird, zanygerbil, xVAMPIRExEMPRESSx, KawaiiScorpio, Xena505, daughterofthe1king, Echelon4eva, owls-love, liza29, GLR97, Trosteule, Mommys-Little-Nightmare, , trampymctramp, shadow-fae, ksbubbleskg, jamielouise, Princess of the Fae, spihh110, triona, The Labyrinths Scribe, LadyKate24, Dancequeen105, Artemis Queen of the Stars, under00z, Daughter of Inis, Princess Bel, gyrohare, jengrl44, Mint Tea Rose, SarahV, Lady Kurina, strangefish, Outsidersluver1992, lanabyte, Everything you know is fangirl, My Silver Angel Wings, Julianna Tala, and tomoe-gozen52. I can't thank you enough! Your reviews mean so much. **

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**You are all such wonderful readers, an aspiring author couldn't ask for more! And in case you are wondering, I do plan on writing more stories, but I'm going to take a little break for a while (probably only a month or two) so that I can focus on some other things. Love to you all!**

**NiennatheWise**


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